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Photographic 

Sciences 

Corporation 


23  WEST  MAIN  STREET 

WEBSTER,  N.Y.  14.'i>80 

(716)  873-4503 


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CIHM/ICMH 

Microfiche 

Series. 


CIHM/ICMH 
Collection  de 
microfiches. 


Canadian  Institute  for  Historical  Microreproductions  /  Institut  Canadian  de  microreproductions  historiques 


Technical  and  Bibliographic  Notat/Notet  tachniquas  at  bibliographlquaa 


Tha  Inatltuta  haa  attamptad  to  obtain  tha  baat 
original  copy  avallabia  for  filming.  Faaturat  of  thia 
copy  which  may  ha  bibllographically  unlqua, 
which  may  altar  any  of  tha  imagaa  in  tha 
reproduction,  or  which  r.tay  aignificantly  change 
tha  uaual  method  of  filming,  are  checked  below. 


D 


D 


n 


n 


D 


Coloured  covera/ 
Couverture  de  couleur 


vj  I   Covers  damaged/ 

'    Couverture  endommagie 


Covers  restored  and/or  laminated/ 
Couvertuie  restaurte  at/ou  peiliculAe 


I     I   Cover  title  missing/ 


Le  titre  de  couverture  manque 

Coloured  maps/ 

Cartes  gAographiques  en  couleur 

Coloured  inic  (i.e.  other  than  blue  or  black)/ 
Encre  de  couleur  (i.e.  autre  que  bleue  ou  noire) 


I     I    Coloured  plates  and/or  illustrations/ 


Planches  et/ou  illustrations  en  couleur 


Bound  with  other  material/ 
Reli6  avac  d'autres  documents 


Tight  binding  may  cause  shadows  or  distortion 
along  interior  margin/ 

La  reliure  serrAe  peut  r.auser  de  I'ombre  ou  de  la 
distortion  ie  long  de  la  marge  intArieure 

Blank  leaves  added  during  restaration  may 
appear  within  the  text.  Whenever  possible,  these 
have  been  omitted  from  filming/ 
li  se  peut  que  certaines  pages  blanches  ajoutias 
lors  d'une  restauration  apparaissent  dans  ie  texte, 
mais.  lorsque  ceia  6tait  possible,  ces  pages  n'ont 
pas  AtA  filmies. 

Additional  comments:/ 
Commentaires  supplAmentaires: 


L'Institut  a  microfilm*  la  mailieur  exemplaire 
qu'il  lui  a  4tA  poaaible  de  ae  procurer.  Lea  details 
de  cet  exemplaire  qui  sont  peut-Atre  uniquea  du 
point  da  vue  bibllographique,  qui  peuvent  modifier 
une  image  reproduite,  ou  qui  peuvent  exiger  une 
modification  dans  la  mAthoda  normala  de  filmaga 
sont  indiquAs  ci-dessous. 


|~~j   Coloured  pages/ 
L_J   Pages  de  couleur 


I — I   Pages  damaged/ 


Pages  endommagAea 

Pages  restored  and/or  laminated/ 
Pages  restaur6as  et/ou  pellicul6es 

Pages  discoloured,  stained  or  foxed/ 
Pages  dicolortes,  tachettes  ou  piqutes 


□   Pages  detached/ 
Pages  ditachtes 


Showthrough/ 
Transparence 


I      I   Quality  of  print  varies/ 


D 


Quality  inigala  de  i'impression 

Includes  supplementary  material/ 
Comprend  du  matAriai  suppiimentaire 

Only  edition  available/ 
Seule  Mition  disponibie 


Pages  wholly  or  partially  obscured  by  errata 
slips,  tissues,  etc.,  have  been  refiimed  to 
ensure  the  best  possible  imaga/ 
Lea  pages  totaiement  ou  partieliement 
obscurcies  par  un  feuiliet  d'errata,  une  pelure, 
etc.,  ont  M  fiimAes  A  nouveau  da  fagon  i 
obtenir  la  niailleure  image  possible. 


T 
t( 


T 

P 
o 

fi 


0 
b 

tl 

si 
o 
fi 

si 
o 


T 

si 
T 

^ 

d 

e< 
b 
ri 
n 
n 


This  item  is  filmed  at  the  reduction  ratio  checked  below/ 

Ce  document  est  filmA  au  taux  de  reduction  indiqu*  ci-dessous. 


10X 

14X 

18X 

22X 

26X 

30X 

7 

12X 

16X 

20X 

24X 

28X 

32X 

The  copy  filmed  here  hes  been  reproduced  '.hanks 
to  the  generosity  of: 

National  Library  of  Canada 


L'exemplaire  filmd  fut  reproduit  grAce  A  la 
g6n4rosit6  de: 

Bibliothdque  nationale  du  Canada 


The  images  appearing  here  are  the  best  quality 
possible  considering  the  condition  and  legibility 
of  the  original  copy  and  in  keeping  with  the 
filming  contract  specifications. 


Les  images  suivantes  ont  M  reproduites  avec  le 
plus  grand  soin,  compte  tenu  de  la  condition  et 
di^  la  netteti  de  Texempiaire  film6,  et  en 
conformity  avec  les  conditions  du  contrat  de 
filmage. 


Original  copies  in  printed  paper  covers  are  filmed 
beginning  with  the  front  cover  and  ending  on 
the  last  r>age  with  a  printed  or  illustrated  impres- 
sion, or  the  back  cover  when  appropriate.  All 
other  original  copies  are  filmed  beginning  on  the 
first  page  with  a  printed  or  illustrated  impres- 
sion, and  ending  on  the  last  page  with  a  printed 
or  illustrated  impression. 


Les  exempla' -es  originaux  dont  la  couverture  en 
papier  est  imprimis  sont  filmis  en  commenpant 
par  le  premier  plat  et  en  terminant  soit  par  la 
dernlAre  page  qui  comports  una  empreinte 
d'impression  ou  d'illustration,  soit  par  le  second 
plat,  selon  le  caa.  Tous  les  autres  exemplaires 
originaux  sont  filmte  en  commenpant  par  la 
premidre  page  qui  comporte  une  empreinte 
d'impression  ou  d'illustration  et  en  terminant  par 
la  dernidre  page  qui  comporte  une  telle 
empreinte. 


The  last  recorded  frame  on  each  microfiche 
shall  contain  the  symbol  -h^  (meaning  "CON- 
TINUED"), or  the  symbol  y  (meaning  "END  "). 
whichever  applies. 


Un  des  symboles  suivants  apparaitra  sur  la 
dernidre  image  de  cheque  microfiche,  selon  le 
cas:  le  symbole  -^  signifie  "A  SUIVRE",  le 
symbole  V  signifie  "FIN". 


Maps,  plates,  ciarts,  etc.,  may  be  filmed  at 
different  reduction  ratios.  Those  too  large  to  be 
entirely  included  in  one  exposure  are  filmed 
beginning  in  the  upper  left  hand  corner,  left  to 
right  and  top  to  bottom,  as  many  frames  as 
required.  The  following  diagrams  illustrate  the 
method: 


Les  cartes,  planches,  tableaux,  etc.,  peuvent  Atre 
fiimAs  A  des  taux  de  rAduction  diffArents. 
Lorsque  le  document  est  trop  grand  pour  Atre 
reproduit  en  un  seul  clichA,  11  est  filmA  A  partir 
de  Tangle  supArieur  gauche,  ae  gauche  A  droite, 
et  de  haut  en  bas.  en  prenant  le  nombre 
d'images  necessaire.  Les  diagrammes  suivants 
illustrent  la  mAthode. 


1 

2 

3 

1 

2 

3 

4 

5 

6 

^"niP^K^p^HHSP 


WITH  WOLFE  IN  CANADA 


ii 


OR 


:| 


THE  WINNING  OF  A  CONTINENT 


..■.-» 


i\ 


vr 


G.  A.  HENTY 


AUTHOR  OP  "  WITH  CLIVE  IN  INDIA,"  "  THE  DRAGON  AND  THB  RAVBN,' 
"  IN  THE  REIGN  OF  terror/'    *' BY  EN'^l^tWD'S  AIDi'^BTC, 


-3, 


^1' 


NEW  YORK: 

HUEST  &  COMPAjrt; 


[ 


mn 


/Sfi 


6 


W' 


i 


'  ■         '.',,.'    ' 


PREFACE. 


My  Dear  Lads:  In  the  present  volume  I  have 
endea\'ored  to  give  the  details  of  the  principal  events  in 
a  struggle  whose  importance  can  hardly  be  overrated. 
At  its  commencement  the  English  occupied  a  mere 
patch  of  land  on  the  eastern  seaboard  of  America, 
hemmed  in  on  all  sides  by  the  French,  who  occupied 
not  only  Canada  in  the  north  and  Louisiana  in  the 
south,  but  possessed  a  chain  of  posts  connecting  them, 
so  cutting  off  the  English  from  all  access  to  the  vast 
countries  of  the  west. 

On  the  issues  of  that  struggle  depended  not  only  the 
destiny  of  Canada,  but  of  the  whole  of  North  America 
and,  to  a  large  extent,  that  of  the  two  mother  countries. 
Wb  n  the  contest  began  the  chances  of  France  becom- 
ing the  great  colonizing  empire  of  the  world  were  as 
good  as  those  of  England.  Not  only  did  she  hold  far 
larger  territories  in  America  than  did  England,  but  she 
had  rich  colonies  in  the  West  Indies  where  the  flag  of 
England  was  at  that  time  hardly  represented,  and  her 
prospects  in  India  were  better  than  our  own.  At  that 
time,  too,  she  disputed  with  us  on  equal  terms  the 
empire  of  the  sea. 

The  loss  of  her  North  American  provinces  turned  the 
scale.  With  the  monopoly  of  such  a  market  the  com- 
merce of  England  increased  enormously,  and  with  her 
commerce  her  wealth  and  power  of  extension,  while  the 
power  of  Frr>nce  was  proportionately  crippled.  It  is 
true  ^  that  in  time  the  North  American  colonies,  with 
the  exception  of  Canada,  broke  away  from  their  connec- 
tion with  tk&  old  country,  but  they  still  remained  £ng- 


SBHII 


IV 


^RSrACl. 


lish,  still  continued  to  be  the  best  market  for  our  gooHs 
and  manufactures. 

Never  was  the  short-sightedness  of  human  beings 
shown  more  distinctly  than  when  France  wasted  her 
strength  and  treasure  in  a  sterile  contest  on  the  conti- 
nent of  Europe,  and  permitted,  with  scarce  an  effort, 
her  North  American  colonies  to  be  torn  from  her. 

All  the  historical  details  of  the  war  have  been  drawn 
from  the  excellent  work  entitled  "  Montcalm  and  Wolfe," 
by  Mr."  Francis  Parkham,  and  from  ihe  detailed  history 
of  the  Louisbourg  and  Quebec  expeditions,  by  Major 
Knox,  v:ho  served  under  Generals  Amherst  and  Wolfe. 

.Yours  very  sincerely, 

G.  A.  Henty. 


i 


«i 


h 


T 


m 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER 

I.    A  Rescue. 


II.  The  Showman's  Grandchild,      . 

III.  The  Justice-room,     ,       ,       ,       , 

IV.  The  Squire's  Granddaughter,   . 
V.  A  Quiet  Time 

VI.  A  Storm, 

VII.  Pressed,      ..#•., 

VIII.  Discharged,   .       •       ,       ,       , 

IX.  The  Defeat  of  Braddock,     «^     , 

X.  The  Fight  at  Lakx  George,      , 

XI.  Scouting,    .       .       ,       ,       ,       , 

XII.  A  Commission,       .       •       .       • 

XIII.  An  Abortive  Attack,      ,       ,       , 

XiV.  Scouting  on  Lake  Champlain,   . 

XV.  Through  Many  Perils,    ... 

XVI.  The  Massacre  at  Fort  Wiluam  Himry, 

XVII.  LOUISBOURO  AND  TiCONDEROGA,  .  , 

XVIII.  Quebec,  ...,,,, 

XIX.  A  Dangerous  Expedition,       ,       ,       , 

XX.  The  Path  Down  the  Heights,  ,. 

XXI.  The  Capture  of  Quebec,        .       •       , 


•    • 


paoc 

X 

x6 

•      34 

50 

.      66 

«4 
.     lOI 

"7 
.    133 

148 
.    165 

x8o 
.    197 

ai2 

.      228 

242 

.    257 

>  269 

.    293 

309 
.    326 


I  1 1  riiii  J ,. «  ^i^ampim 


) 


:M 


\ 


WITH  WOLFE  IN  CANADA ; 


OR. 


THE  WINNING  OF  A  CONTINENT. 


CHAPTER  I. 

A    RESCUE. 

Most  of  the  towns  standing  on  cur  seacoast  have 
suffered  a  radical  change  in  the  course  of  the  last  cen- 
tury. Railways  and  the  fashion  of  summer  holiday- 
making  have  transformed  them  altogether,  and  great 
towns  have  sprung  up  where  fishing  villages  once  stoocl. 
There  are  a  few  places,  however,  which  seem  to  have 
been  passed  by  by  the  crowd.  The  number  yearly  be- 
comes smaller  as  the  iron  roads  throw  out  frssh 
branches.  With  the  advent  of  these  comes  the  specula- 
tive builder,  rows  of  terraces  and  shops  are  run  up, 
promenades  are  made,  bathing-machines  and  brass 
bands  become  familiar  objects,  and  in  a  few  years  the 
original  character  of  the  place  altogether  disappears. 

Sidmouth  for  a  long  time  was  passed  by  by  the  world 
of  holiday-makers.  East  and  west  of  her  great  changes 
took  place,  and  many  far  smaller  villages  became  fash- 
ionable seaside  watering-places;  the  railway  which 
passed  by  some  twelve  miles  away  carried  its  tens  of 
thousands  westward,  but  left  few  of  them  for  Sidmouth, 
and  anyone  who  visited  the  pretty  little  place  fifteen 
years  back  would  have  seen  it  almost  as  it  stood  when 
our  story  opens  a  century  ago^ 


* 


"*W" 


WITH  WOLFE  IN  s.  AN  AD  A. 


There  are  few  places  in  England  with  a  fairer  s^te;  it 
lies  embosomed  in  the  hills  which  rise  sharply  on  either 
side  of  it,  while  behind  stretches  a  rich  undulating  coun- 
try thickly  dotted  with  orchards  and  snug  homesteads, 
with  lanes  bright  with  wild  flowers  and  ferns,  with  high 
hedges  and  trees  meeting-  overhead.  The  cold  breezes 
which  render  so  bare  of  interest  the  walks  round  the 
great  majority  of  our  seaside  towns  pass  harmlessly  over 
the  valley  of  the  Sid,  where  the  vegetation  is  as  bright 
and  luxuriant  as  if  the  ocean  lay  leagues  away  instead 
of  breaking  "on  the  shore  within  a  few  feet  of  the  front 
line  of  houses. 

The  cliffs,  which  on  either  side  rise  from  the  water's 
edge,  are  neither  white  like  those  to  the  east,  nor  gray 
as  are  the  rugged  bulwarks  to  the  west.  They  are  of  a 
deep  red,  warm  and  pleasant  to  the  eye,  with  clumps  of 
green  showing  brightly  up  against  them  on  every  little 
ledge  where  vegetation  can  get  a  footing;  while  the 
beach  is  neither  pebble,  nor  rock,  nor  sand,  but  a 
smooth  level  surface  sloping  evenly  down,  hard  and 
pleasant  to  walk  on  when  the  sea  has'  gone  down,  and 
the  sun  has  dried  and  baked  it  for  an  hour  or  two,  but 
slippery  and  treacherous  when  freshly  wetted,  for  the 
red  cliffs  are  of  clay.  Those  who  sail  past  in  a  boat 
would  hardly  believe  that  this  is  so,  for  the  sun  has 
baked  its  face,  and  the  wind  dried  it  till  it  is  cracked  and 
seamed,  and  makes  a  brave  imitation  of  red  granite; 
but  the  clammy  ooze  when  the  sea  goes  down  tells  its 
nature  only  loo  plainly,  and  Sidmouth  will  never  be  a 
popular  watering-place  for  children,  for  there  is  no 
digging  sand  castles  here,  and  a  fall  will  stain  light 
dresses  and  pinafores  a  ruddy  hue,  and  the  young 
laborers  will  look  as  if  they  had  been  at  work  in  a  brick- 
field. 

But  a  century  since  the  march  of  improvement  had 
nowhere  begun,  and  there  were  few  lareer  and  no 
prettier  seaside  villages  on  the  coast  than  Sidmouth.  It 
was  an  afternoon  in  August;  the  sun  was  l)lazin^  down 
hotly,  scarce  a  br^tb  qI  mnd  w«^9  stirring,  and  the  tiny 


, 


i 


7 


wmmmmmm 


waves  broke  along  the  sh  >re  with  a  low  rustle  like  that 
of  falling  leaves.  Some  fishermen  were  at  work  re- 
calking  a  boat  hauled  up  on  the  shore,  others  were  lay- 
ing out  some  nets  to  dry  in  the  sun;  some  fisherboys 
were  lying  asleep  like  dogs  basking  in  the  heat;  and  a 
knot  of  lads  sitting  under  the  shade  of  a  boat  were  dis- 
cussing with  some  warmth  the  question  of  smuggling. 

"  What  do  you  say  to  it,  Jim  Walsham?  "  one  of  the 
party  said,  looking  up  at  a  boy  some  twelve  years  old 
who  was  leaning  agamst  a  boat,  but  who  had  hitherto 
taken  no  part  in  the  discussion. 

"There  is  no  doubt  that,  it's  wrong,"  the  boy  said. 
"  Not  wrong  like  stealing,  and  lying,  and  that  sort  of 
thing;  still  it's  wrong  because  it's  against  the  law,  and  * 
the  revenue  men  if  they  come  upon  a  gang  landing  the 
tubs  fight  with  them,  and  if  any  are  killed  they  are  not 
blamed  for  it,  so  there  is  no  doubt  about  its  being  . 
wrong.  Then  on  the  other  hand  no  one  thinks  any  the 
worse  of  the  men  that  do  it,  and  there  is  scarce  a  one, 
gentle  or  simple,  as  won't  buy  some  of  the  stuff  if  he 
gets  a  chance,  so  it  can't  be  so  very  wrong.  It  must  be 
great  fun  to  be  a  smuggler,  to  be  always  dodging  the 
king's  cutters,  and  runnmg  cargoes  under  the  nose  of 
the  officers  ashore.  There  is  some  excitement  in  a  life 
like  that." 

"There  is  plenty  of  excitement  in  fishing,"  one  of 
the  boys  s^d  sturdily.  **  If  you  had  been  out  in  that 
storm  last  March  you  would  have  had  as  much  excite- 
ment as  you  liked.  For  twelve  hours  we  expected  to 
go  down  every  minute,  and  we  were  half  our  time  bail- 
ing for  our  lives." 

An  approving  murmur  broke  from  the  others,  who 
were  all,  with  the  exception  of  the  one  addressed  as  Jim 
Walsham,  of  the  fisher  class.  His  clothing  differed  but 
little  from  that  of  the  rest;  his  dark  blue  pilot  trousers 
were  old  and  sea-stained,  his  hands  and  face  were  dyed 
brown  with  exposure  to  the  sun  and  the  salt  water;  but 
there  was  something  in  his  manner  and  tone  of  voice 
which  showed  that  a  distinction  existed.    Jamies  Wal^ 


i 


I 


4  mtti  WOLFS:  IN  CANA£>A. 

sham  was  indeed  the  son  of  the  late  doctor  of  the  vil- 
lage; who  had  died  two  years  previously. 

Dr.  Walsham  had  been  clever  in  his  profession,  but 
circumstances  were  against  him.  Sidmouth  and  its 
neighborhood  were  so  healthy  that  his  patients  were 
few  and  far  between,  and  when  he  died  of  injuries  re- 
ceived from  being  thrown  over  his  horse's  head  when 
the  animal  one  night  trod  on  a  stone  coming  down  the 
hill  into  Sidmouth,  his  widow  and  son  were  left  almost 
penniless.  Mrs.  Walsham  was  fortunately  an  energetic 
\^oman,  and  a  fortnight  after  her  husband's  death  she 
went  round  among  the  tradesmen  of  the  place  and  the 
farmers  of  the  neighborhood,  and  announced  her  inten- 
tion of  opening  a  school  for  girls.  She  had  received  a 
good  education,  being  the  daughter  of  a  clergyman,  and 
she  soon  obtained  enough  pupils  to  enable  her  to  pay 
her  way  and  to  keep  up  the  pretty  home  in  which  her 
husband  had  lived  in  the  outskirts  of  Sidmouth. 

If  she  would  have  taken  boarders  she  could  have 
obtained  far  higher  terms,  for  good  schools  were  scarce, 
but  this  she  would  not  do,  and  her  pupils  all  lived  within 
distances  where  they  could  walk  backward  and  forward 
to  their  homes.  Her  evenings  she  devoted  to  her  son, 
and  though  the  education  which  she  was  enabled  to 
give  him  would  be  considered  meager  indeed  in  these 
days  of  universal  cramming,  he  learned  as  much  as  the 
average  boy  of  the  period. 

He  would  have  learned  more  had  he  followed  her 
desires,  and  devoted  the  time  when  she  was  engaged  in 
teaching  to  his  books;  but  this  he  did  not  do;  for  a  few 
hours  in  the  day  he  would  work  vigorously  at  his  les- 
sons, the  rest  of  his  time  he  spent  either  on  the  seashore 
or  in  the  boats  of  the  fishermen;  and  he  could  swim, 
row,  or  handle  a  boat  under  sail  in  all  weather  as  well 
or  better  than  any  lad  in  the  village  of  his  own  age. 

His  disposition  was  a  happy  one,  and  he  was  a  gen- 
eral favorite  among  the  boatmen.  He  had  not  as  yet 
made  up  his  mind  as  to  his  future.  His  mother  wanted 
him  to  follow  his  father's  profession;  he  himself  longed 


/ 


( 


A  RESCUB.  5 

to  go  fo  sea,  but  he  had  promised  his  mother  that  he 
would  never  do  so  without  her  consent,  and  that  con- 
sent he  had  no  hope  of  obtaininf;. 

The  better-class  people  in  the  village  shook  their 
heads  gravely  over  James  Walsham,  and  prophesied  no 
good  things  of  him.  They  considered  that  he  demeaned 
himself  greatly  by  association  with  the  fisherboys,  and 
more  than  once  he  had  fallen  into  disgrace  with  the 
more  quiet-minded  of  the  inhabitants  by  mischievous 
pranks.  His  reputation  that  way  once  established, 
every  bit  of  mischief  in  the  place  which  could  not  be 
clearly  traced  to  someone  else  was  put  down  to  him,  and 
as  he  was  not  one  who  would  peach  upon  others  to  save 
himself,  he  was  seldom  in  a  position  to  prove  his  inno- 
cence. 

The  parson  had  once  called  upon  Mrs.  Walsham, 
and  had  talked  to  her  gravely  over  her  son's  delin- 
quencies, but  his  success  had  not  been  equal  to  his 
anticipations.  Mrs.  Walsham  had  stood  up  warmly  for 
her  son. 

"The  boy  may  get  into  mischief  sometimes,  Mr. 
Allanby,  but  it  is  the  nature  of  boys  to  do  so.  James  is 
a  good  boy,  upright  and  honorable,  and  would  not  tell 
a  lie  under  any  consideration.  What  is  he  to  do?  If 
I  could  afford  to  send  him  to  a  good  school  it  would  be 
a  diflferent  thing,  but  that  you  know  I  cannot  do.  From 
nine  in  the  morning  until  five  in  the  afternoon  my  time 
is  occupied  by  teaching,  and  I  cannot  expect,  nor  do  I 
wish,  that  he  should  sit  moping  indoors  all  day.  He 
had  far  better  be  out  in  the  boats  with  the  fishermen 
than  be  hanging  about  the  place  doing  nothing.  If  any- 
thing happened  to  me  before  he  is  started  in  life  there 
would  be  nothing  for  him  but  to  take  to  the  sea.  I  am 
laying  by  a  littl?  money  every  month,  and  if  I  live  for 
another  year  there  will  be  enough  to  buy  him  a  fishing- 
boat  and  nets.  I  trust  that  it  may  not  come  to  that,  but 
I  see  nothing  derogatory  in  his  earning  an  honest  living 
with  his  own  hands ;  he  will  always  be  something  better 
than  a  common  fisherman.     The  education   I   have 


WITH  WOLFE  IN  CANADA. 


striven  to  give  him,  and  his  knowledge  that  he  was  bom 
a  gentleman,  will  nerve  him  to  try  and  rise.  As  to  what 
you  say  about  mischief,  so  far  as  I  know  all  boys  are 
mischievous.  I  know  that  my  own  brothers  were 
always  getting  into  scrapes,  and  I  have  no  doubt,  Mr. 
AUanby,  that  when  you  look  Lack  upon  your  own  boy- 
hood you  will  see  that  you  were  not  an  exception  to  the 
general  rule." 

Mr.  Allanby  smiled.  He  had  come  rather  against  his 
own  inclinations;  but  his  wife  had  urged  him  to  speak 
to  Mrs.  Walsham,  her  temper  being  ruffled  by  the  disap- 
pearance of  two  favorite  pigeons,  whose  loss  she,  with- 
out a  shadow  of  evidence,  most  unjustly  put  down  to 
James  Walsham. 

The  parson  was  by  no  means  strict  with  his  flock. 
He  was  a  tall  man,  inclined  to  be  portly,  a  good  shot 
and  an  ardent  fisherman,  and  although  he  did  not  hunt 
he  ./as  frequently  seen  on  his  brown  cob  at  the  "  meet " 
whenever  it  took  place  within  a  reasonable  distance  of 
Sidmouth,  and  without  exactly  following  the  hounds 
his  knowledge  of  the  country  often  enabled  him  to  see 
more  of  the  hunt  than  those  who  did.  As  Mrs.  Wal- 
sham spoke,  the  memory  of  his  old  school  and  college 
days  came  across  him. 

"  That  is  the  argumentum  ad  hominem^  Mrs.  Walsham, 
and  when  a  lady  takes  to  that  we  can  say  no  more. 
You  know  I  like  your  boy,  there  is  much  that  is  good  in 
him;  but  it  struck  me  that  you  were  letting  him  run  a 
little  too  wild.  However,  there  is  much  in  what  you 
say,  and  I  don'^t  believe  that  he  is  concerned  in  half  the 
mischief  that  he  gets  credit  for.  Still  you  must  remem- 
ber that  a  little  of  the  curb,  just  a  little,  is  good  for  us 
all.  It  spoils  a  horse  to  be  always  tugging  at  his  mouth, 
but  he  will  go  very  badly  if  he  does  not  feel  that  there  is 
a  hand  on  the  reins.  I  have  said  the  same  thing  to  the 
squire.  He  spoils  that  boy  of  his,  for  whom,  between 
ourselves,  I  have  no  great  liking.  The  old  man  will 
have  trouble  with  him  before  he  is  done,  or  I  am  greatly 
mistaken." 


i 


A  RESCUE. 


! 


Nothing  came  of  Mr.  Allanby's  visit.  Mrs.  Walsham 
told  James  Uiat  he  had  been  there^to  remonstrate  with 
her.  "  I  do  not  want  to  stop  you  from  going  out  sail- 
ing, Jim;  but  I  wish  you  would  give  up  your  mis- 
chievous pranks,  they  only  get  you  bad  will  and  a  bad 
name  in  the  place.  Many  people  here  think  that  I  am 
wrong  in  allowing  you  to  ascociate  so  much  with  the 
fisherboyfj,  and  when  you  ^et  into  scrapes  it  enables 
them  to  impress  upon  me  how  right  they  were  in  their 
forecasts.  I  do  not  want  my  boy  to  be  named  in  the 
same  breath  with  those  boys  of  Robson's,  or  young 
Peterson,  or  Blaine." 

"  But  you  know  I  have  nothing  to  do  with  them, 
mother,"  James  said  indignantly.  "They  spend  half 
their  time  about  the  public-house,  and' they  do  say  that 
when  Peterson  has  been  out  with  that  lurcher  of  his  he 
has  been  seen  coming  back  with  his  coat  bulged  out, 
and  there  is  often  a  smell  of  hare  round  his  father's  cot- 
tage at  supper  time.  You  know  I  wouldn't  have  any- 
thing to  do  with  them." 

"  No,  Jim,  I  am  sure  you  would  not;  but  if  people 
mix  up  your  name  with  theirs  it  is  almost  as  bad  for  you 
as  if  you  had.  Unfortunately  people  are  too  apt  not  to 
distinguish  between  tricks  which  are  really  only  the 
outcome  of  high  spirit  and  a  lack  of  something  better 
to  do,  and  real  vice.  Therefore,  Jim,  I  say,  keep  your- 
self from  mischief.  I  know  that  though  you  are  out  of 
doors  so  many  hours  of  the  day  you  really  do  get 
tiirough  a  good  deal  of  work;  but  other  people  do  not 
give  you  credit  for  this.  Remember  how  your  father 
was  respected  here.  Try  to  act  always  as  you  would 
have  done  had  he  been  alive,  and  you  cannot  go  far 
wrong." 

James  had  done  his  best,  but  he  found  it  hard  to  get 
rid  of  his  reputation  for  getting  into  mischief,  and  more 
than  once,  when  falsely  suspected,  he  grumbled  that  he 
might  just  as  well  have  the  fun  of  the  thing,  for  he  was 
sure  to  have  the  blame. 

As  Jim  Walsham  and  his  companions  were  chatting 


WITH  WOLFE  IN  CANADA. 


in  the  shade  of  a  boat  their  conversation  was  abruptly 
broken  off  by  the  sight  of  a  figure  coming  along  the 
road.  It  was  a  tall  figure,  with  a  stiff  military  bearing; 
he  was  pushing  before  him  a  large  box  mounted  on  a 
framework  supported  by  four  wheels;  low  down,  close 
to  the  ground,  swung  a  large  flat  basket.  In  this,  on 
a  shawl  spread  over  a  thick  bed  of  hay,  sat  a  little  £  t1 
some  five  years  old. 

"  It  is  the  sergeant! "  one  of  the  boys  exclaimed.  "  I 
wonder  whether  he  has  got  a  fresh  set  of  views;  the  last 
were  first-rate  ones." 

The  sergeant  gave  a  friendly  nod  to  the  boys  as  he 
passed,  and  then  turning  up  the  main  street  from  the 
beach  went  along  until  he  came  to  a  shaded  comer,  and 
there  stopped.  The  boys  had  all  got  up  and  followed 
him,  and  now  stood  looking  on  with  interest  at  his  pro- 
ceedings. The  little  girl  had  climbed  out  of  her  basket 
as  soon  as  he  stopped,  and  after  asking  leave,  trotted 
back  along  the  street  to  the  beach,  and  was  soon  at  play 
among  the  seaweed  and  stones. 

She  was  a  singularly  pretty  child,  with  dark  blue  eyes, 
and  brown  hair  with  a  touch  of  gold.  Her  print  dress 
was  spotlessly  clean  and  neat;  a  huge  flapping  sun- 
bonnet  shaded  her  face,  whose  expression  was  bright 
and  winning. 

"  Well,  boys,"  the  sergeant  said  cheerfully,  "  how  have 
you  been  getting  on  since  I  was  here  last?  Nobody 
drowned,  I  hope,  or  come  to  any  ill;  not  that  we  must 
grumble  whatever  comes;  we  have  all  got  to  do  our 
duty,  whether  it  be  to  march  up  a  hill  with  shot  and 
shell  screaming  and  whistling  round,  as  I  have  had  to 
do;  or  to  be  far  out  at  sea  with  the  wind  blowing  fit  to 
take  the  hair  off  your  head,  as  comes  to  your  lot  some- 
times; or  following  the  plow  from  year's  end  to  year's 
eid,  as  happens  to  some.  We  have  got  to  make  the 
best  of  it  whatever  it  is.  I  have  got  a  grand  new  set  of 
pictures  from  Exeter.  They  came  all  the  way  down 
from  London  town  for  me  by  wagon.  London  Bridge, 
and  Windsor  Castle,  with  the  flag  flying  over  it,  telling 


T^T^im^ 


T 


■  ■    ■ 


A    RESCUE.  9 

that  the  king — God  bless  his,  gracious  majesty — is  at 
home.         % 

"  Then  I  have  got  some  pictures  of  foreign  parts  that 
will  make  you  open  your  eyes.  There's  Niagara.  I 
don't  know  whether  you've  heard  of  it,  but  it's  a  place 
where  a  great  river  jumps  down  over  a  wall  of  rock  as 
high  as  that  steeple  there,  with  a  roar  like  thunder  that 
can  be  heard,  they  say,  on  a  still  night,  for  twenty  miles 
round.  I  have  got  some  that  will  interest  you  more 
still,  because  you  are  sailors,  or  are  going  to  be  sailors. 
I  have  got  one  of  the  killing  of  a  whale;  he  has  just 
thrown  a  boat  with  five  sailors  into  the  air,  with  a  lash 
of  his  tail;  but  it's  of  no  use,  for  there  are  other  boats 
round,  and  the  harpoons  are  striking  deep  in  his  flesh. 
He  is  a  big  fish  and  a  strong  one;  but  he  will  be  beaten, 
for  he  does  not  know  how  to  use  his  strength.  That's 
the  case  with  many  men.  They  throw  away  their  life 
and  their  talents,  just  because  they  don't  know  what's 
in  them,  and  what  they  might  do  if  they  tried. 

"And  I  have  got  a  picture  of  the  fight  with  the 
Spanish  Armada.  You  have  heard  about  that,  boys, 
surely;  for  it  beg^n  out  there  over  the  water  almost  in 
sight  of  Sidmouth,  and  went  on  all  the  way  up  the 
Channel,  our  little  ships  hanging  on  to  the  great  Span- 
iards and  giving  them  no  rest,  but  worrying  them  and 
battering  them  till  they  were  glad  to  sail  away  to  the 
Dutch  coast;  but  they  were  not  safe  there,  for  we  sent 
fire-ships  at  them,  and  they  had  to  cut  and  run;  and 
then  a  storm  came  on,  and  sunk  many  and  drove  others 
ashore  all  around  our  coasts,  even  round  the  north  of 
Scotland  and  Ireland.  You  will  see  it  all  here,  boys, 
and,  as  you  know,  the  price  is  only  one  penny." 

By  this  time  the  sergeant  had  let  down  one  side  of  the 
box  and  discovered  four  round  holes,  and  had  arranged 
a  low  stool  in  front,  for  any  of  those  who  were  not  tall 
enough  to  look  through  the  glasses,  to  stand  upon.  A 
considerable  number  of  girls  and  boys  had  now  gathered 
round,  for  Sergeant  Wilks  and  his  show  were  old-estab- 
lished favorites  at  Sidmouth^  and  the  news  of  his  arrival 


^Ww  p  •  ™ 


10 


WITH  WOLFE  IN  CANADA. 


had  traveled  quickly  round  the  place.  Four  years  be- 
fore he  had  appeared  there  for  the  first  time,  and  since 
then  had  come  every  few  months.  He  traveled  round 
the  southwestern  counties,  Dorset  and  Wilts,  Somerset, 
Devon,  and  Cornwall,  and  his  cheery  good  temper  made 
him  a  general  favorite  wherever  he  went. 

He  was-somewhat  of  a  martinet,  and  would  have  no 
crowding  j^nd  pushing,  and  always  made  the  boys  stand 
aside  till  the  girls  had  a  good  look;  but  he  never 
hurried  them,  and  allowed  each  an  ample  time  to  see 
the  picturf»s,  which  were  of  a  better  class  than  those  in 
most  traveling  peep-shows.  There  was  some  murmur- 
ing at  first  because  the  show  contained  none  of  the 
popular  murders  and  blood-curdling  scenes  to  which 
the  people  were  accustomed. 

"  No,"  the  sergeant  had  said  firmly,  when  the  omission 
was  suggested  to  him;  "the  young  ones  see  quite 
enough  scenes  of  drunkeriness  and  fighting.  When  I 
was  a  child  I  remember  seeing  in  a  peep-show  the  picture 
of  a  woman  lying  with  her  head  nearly  cut  off,  and  her 
husband  with  a  bloody  chopper  standing  beside  her,  and 
it  spoiled  my  sleep  for  weeks.  No,  none  of  that  sort  of 
thing  for  Sergeant  Wilks ;  he  has  fought  for  his  country, 
and  has  seen  bloodshed  enough  in  his  time,  and  the 
giound  half  covered  with  dead  and  dying  men,  but  that 
was  duty — this  is  pleasure.  Sergeant  Wilks  will  show 
the  boys  and  girls  who  pay  him  their  pennies  views  in 
all  parts  of  the  world  such  as  would  cost  them  thou- 
sands of  pounds  if  they  traveled  to  see  them,  and  all 
natural  as  life.  He  will  show  them  great  battles  by 
land  and  sea,  where  the  soldiers  and  sailors  shed  their 
blood  like  water  in  the  service  of  their  country;  but 
cruel  murders  and  notorious  crimes  he  will  not  show 
them." 

It  was  not  the  boys  and  girls  only  who  were  the  ser- 
geant's patrons.  Picture-books  were  scarce  in  those 
days,  and  grown-up  girls  and  young  men  were  not 
ashamed  to  pay  their  pennies  to  peep  into  the  ser- 
l^^ant's  box*   There  was  scarcely  a  farm-hotise  through- 


A  ft£dCtTtt. 


tf 


out  his  beat  where  he  was  not  known  and  welcomed. 
His  care  of  the  child,  who,  when  he  first  came  around, 
was  but  a  year  old,  won  the  hearts  of  the  women,  and 
a  bowl  of  bread  and  milk  for  the  little  one,  and  a  mug 
of  beer  and  a  hunch  of  bread  and  bacon  for  himself, 
were  always  at  his  service  before  he  opened  his  box 
and  showed  i^s  wonders  to  the  maids  and  children  of 
the  house. 

Sidmouth  was  one  of  his  regular  halting  places,  and, 
indeed,  he  visited  it  more  often  than  any  other  town 
on  his  beat.  There  was  always  a  room  ready  for  him 
there  in  the  house  of  a  fisherman's  widow  when  he 
arrived  on  the  Saturday,  and  he  generally  stopped  till 
the  Monday.  Thus  he  had  come  to  know  the  names  of 
most  of  the  boys  of  the  place  as  well  as  of  many  of  the 
elders;  for  it  was  his  custom  of  a  Saturday  evening,  after 
the  little  one  was  in  bed,  to  go  and  smoke  his  pipe  in 
the  tap-room  of  the  Anchor,  where  he  would  some- 
times rdate  tales  of  his  adventures  to  the  assembled 
fishermen.  But,  although  chatty  and  cheery  with  his 
patrons,  Sergeant  Wilks  was  a  irticent  ra,ther  than  a 
talkative  man.  At  the  Anchor  he  wfs,  except  when 
called  upon  for  a  story,  a  listener  rather  than  a 
talker. 

As  to  his  history,  or  the  county  to  which  he  belonged, 
he  never  alluded  to  it,  although  communicative  enough 
as  to  his  military  adventures;  and  any  questions  which 
were  asked  him  he  quietly  put  on  one  side.  He  had 
intimated,  indeed,  that  the  father  and  mother  of  his 
grandchild  were  both  dead;  but  it  was  not  known 
whether  she  was  the  child  of  his  son  or  daughter;  for 
under  his  cheerful  talk  there  was  something  of  military 
strictness  and  sternness,  and  he  was  not  a  man  of  whom 
idle  questions  would  be  asked. 

"  Now,  boys  and  girls,"  he  said,  "step  up;  tKe  show 
is  ready.  Those  who  have  got  a  penny  cannot  spend 
it  better.  Those  who  haven't  must  try  and  get  their 
father  or  mother  to  'give  them  one  and  see  the  show 
later  oii.    Girls  first,  boys  should  always  give  wa/  tp 


"^^ 


Id 


WITH  WOLF£  IM  CANADA. 


their  sisters.  The  bravest  men  are  always  the  most 
courteous  and  gentle  with  women." 

Four  girls  of  various  ages  paid  their  pennies  and  took 
their  places  at  the  glasses,  and  the  sergeant  then  began 
to  describe  the  pictures,  his  descriptions  of  the  wonders 
withip  beiiig  so  exciting  that  several  boys  and  girls  stole 
off  from  the  little  crowd  and  made  their  way  to  their 
homes  to  coax  their  parents  out  of  the  necessary  coin. 

James  Walsham  listened  a  while,  and  then  walked 
away  to  the  sea,  for  there  would  be  several  sets  of  girls 
before  it  came  to  the  turn  of  the  boys.  He  strolled 
along,  and  as  he  came  within  sight  of  the  beach  stopped 
for  a  moment  suddenly,  and  then  with  a  shout  ran  for- 
ward at  the  top  of  his  speed. 

The  little  girl,  after  playing  some  time  with  the  sea- 
weed, had  climbed  into  a  small  boat  which  lay  at  the 
edge  of  the  advancing  tide,  and  leaning  over  the  stem 
watched  the  little  waves  as  they  ran  up  one  after  anothc. 
A  few  minutes  after  she  had  got  into  it,  the  rising  tide 
floated  the  boat,  and  it  drifted  out  a  few  yards,  as  far 
as  its  headrope  alloMied  it.  Ignorant  of  what  had  hap- 
pened, the  child  was  kneeling  up  at  the  stern,  leaning 
over,  and  dabbling  her  hands  in  the  water.  No  one 
had  noticed  her;  the  boys  had  all  deserted  the  beach. 
None  of  the  fishermen  were  near  the  spot.  Just  before 
James  Walsham  came  within  sight  of  the  sea  the  child 
had  overbalanced  herself.  His  eye  fell  on  the  water  just 
as  two  arms  and  a  frightened  little  face  appeared  above 
it.  There  was  a  little  splash  and  a  struggle,  ahd  the 
sea  was  bare  again. 

At  the  top  of  his  speed  James  dashed  across  the  road, 
sprang  down  the  beach,  and  rushing  a  few  yards  into 
the  water,  dived  down.  He  knew  which  way  the  tide 
was  making,  and  allowed  for  the  set.  A  few  vigorous 
strokes,  and  he  reached  something  white  on  the  surface. 
It  was  the  sun-bonnet  which  had,  in  the  child's  strug- 
gles, become  unfastened.  He  dived  at  once,  and  almost 
immediately  saw  a  confused  mass  -before  him.  Another 
Stroke;  and  he  seized  the  child's  clothes,  and  grasping 


I 


^ 


■if 


A  RESCUE. 


«s 


tier  firmly,  rose  to  the  surface  and  swam  toward  shore. 
Although  the  accident  had  not  been  perceived,  his  shout 
and  sudden^  rush  into  the  water  had  called  the  atten- 
tion of  some  of  the  men,  and  two  or  three  of  them  ran 
into  the  water  waist  deep  to  help  him  out  with  his  little 
burden. 

"Well  done.  Master  WalshamI  the  child  would  have 
been  drowned  if  you  had  not  seed  it.  None  of  us 
iioticed  her  fall  over.  She  was  playing  on  the  beach 
last  time  I  seed  her.** 

"Is  she  dead?"  James  ask^d,  breathless  from  his 
exertions. 

"  Not  she,**  the  fisherman  said;  "  she  could  not  have 
been  under  water  a  minute.  Take  her  into  my  cottage, 
it's  one  of  the  nighest;  my  wife  will  put  her  between 
the  blankets,  and  will  soon  bring  her  round.** 

The  fisherman*s  wife  met  them  at  the  door,  and,  tak- 
ing the  child  from  the  lad,  carried  her  in,  and  soon  had 
her  wrapped  up  in  blankets.  But  before  this  was  done 
she  had  opened  her  eyes,  for  she  had  scarcely  lost  con- 
sciousness when  James  had  seized  her.  The  lad  stood 
outside  the  door  waiting  for  the  news  when  the  ser- 
geant hurried  up,  one  of  the  fishermen  having  gone  to 
tell  him  what  had  happened  as  soon  as  the  child  had 
been  carried  into  the  cottage — ^assuring  him,  as  he  did 
so,  that  the  little  one  would  speedily  come  around.  Just 
as  he  came  up  the  door  of  the  cottage  opened,  and  one 
of  the  women  who  had  run  in  to  assist  the  fisherman's 
wife  put  her  head  out. 

"  She  has  opened  her  eyes,**  she  said.  "  The  little 
dear  will  soon  be  all  right.'* 

"Thank  God  for  his  mercies!'*  the  sergeant  said, 
taking  off  his  hat.  "  What  should  I  have  done  if  I 
had  lost  her?  and  I  have  to  thank  you  next  to  God,'*  he 
said,  seizing  the  boy's  hand.  "  May  God  bless  you, 
young  gentleman!  and  reward  you  for  having  saved  my 
darling.  They  tell  me  she  must  have  been  drowned 
but  for  you,  for  no  one  knew  she  had  fallen  in.  Had 
it  not  been  for  you  I  should  come  around  to  look  for 


f 


\ 


S^St^fS^c 


m 


wm 


14 


WITH  WOLFS  IN  CANADA. 


her  and  she  would  have  been  gone — gone  forever!** 
and  the  showman  dashed  the  tears  from  his  eyes  with 
the  back  of  his  hand. 

"  I  was  only  just  in  time,"  the  lad  said.  "  I  did  not 
see  her  fall  out  of  the  boat.  She  was  only  a  few  yards 
away  from  it  when  she  came  up — ^just  as  my  eyes  fell 
on  the  spot.  I  am  very  glad  to  have  saved  her  for  you; 
but,  of  course,  it  was  nothing  of  a  swim.  She  could 
not  have  been  many  yards  out  of  my  depth.  Now  I 
will  run  home  and  change  my  things." 

James  Walsham  was  too  much  accustomed  to  be  wet 
thfough  to  care  anything  about  his  dripping  clothes, 
but  they  served  him  as  an  excuse  to  get  away,  for  he 
felt  awkward  and  embarrassed  at  the  gratitude  of  the 
old  soldier.  He  pushed  his  way  through  the  little 
crowd  which  had  now  gathered  round,  and  started 
at  a  run;  for  the  news  had  brought  almost  all  those 
gathered  around  the  peep-show  to  the  shore,  the  excite- 
ment of  somebody  being  drowned  being  superior  even 
to  that  of  the  peep-show  to  the  great  majority,  though 
a  few,  who  harl  no  hope  of  obtaining  the  necessary 
pennies,  had  lingered  behind  and  seized  the  opportunity  ' 
for  a  gratuitous  look  through  the  glasses. 

James  ran  upstairs  and  changed  his  clothes  without 
seeing  his  mother,  and  then,  taking  down  one  of  his 
lesson  books,  set  to  woik,  shrinking  from  the  idea  of 
going  out  again  and  being  made  a  hero  of.  Half  an 
hour  later  there  was  a  knock  at  the  front  door,  and  a 
few  minutes  after  his  mother  called  him  down.  He 
ran  down  to  the  parkr,  and  there  found  the  showman. 

"  Oh,  I  say,"  the  boy  broke  out,  "  don't  say  anything 
more  about  it!  I  do  hate  being  thanked,  and  there  was 
nothing  in  swimming  ten  yards  in  a  calm  sea.  Please 
don't  say  anything  more  about  it.  I  would  rather  you 
hit  me  ever  so  much." 

The  sergeant  smiled  gravely,  and  Mrs.  Walsham 
exclaimed: 

"  Why  didn't  you  come  in  and  tell  me  about  it,  Jim? 
I  could  not  make  out  at  first  what  Mr. — Mr. " 


A  RBSCUB. 


H 


"  Sergeant  Wilks,  madam." 

**  What  Sergeant  Wilks  meant  when  he  said  that  he 
had  called  to  tell  me  how  grateful  he  felt  to  you  for 
saving  his  little  grandchild's  life.  I  am  proud  of  you, 
Jim." 

'Oh,  mother;  don't  I"  the  boy  exclaimed.  "It  is 
horrid  going  on  so.  If  I  had  swum  out  with  a  rope 
through  the  surf  there  might  be  something  in  it;  but 
just  to  jump  in  at  the  edge  of  the  water  is  not  worth 
making  a  fuss  about  one  way  or  the  other.' 

"Not  to  you,  perhaps,  young  gentleman,  but  it  is  to 
me,"  the  showman  said.  "  The  child  is  the  light  of  my 
life,  the  only  thing  I  have  to  care  for  in  the  world,  and 
you  have  saved  her.  If  it  had  only  been  by  stretching 
out  your  hand  I  should  have  been  equally  grateful. 
However,  I  will  say  no  more  about  it,  but  I  shall  not 
think  the  less.  But  don't  you  believe,  madam,  that 
there  was  no  credit  in  it.  It  was  just  the  quickness 
and  ihe  promptness  which  saved  her  life.  Had  your 
son  hesitated  a  moment  it  would  have  been  too  late, 
for  he  would  never  have  found  her.  It  is  not  likely 
that  your  son  will  ever  have  any  occasion  for  help  of 
mine,  but  should  there  be  an  opportunity  he  may  rely 
upon  it  that  any  service  I  can  render  him  shall  be  his 
to  the  death;  and  unlikely  as  it  may  seem,  it  may  yet  turn 
out  that  this  brave  act  of  his  in  saving  the  life  of  the 
granddaughter  of  a  traveling  showman  will  not  be  with- 
out its  reward." 

"  Is  she  all  right  now? "  James  asked  abruptly, 
anxious  to  change  the  conversation. 

"  Yes.  She  soon  came  to  herself,  and  wanted  to  tell 
m;  all  about  it;  but  I  would  not  let  her  talk,  and  in 
a  few  minutes  she  dropped  oflF  to  sleep,  and  there  I  left 
her.  The -women  tell  me  she  will  probably  sleep  till 
morning,  and  will  then  be  as  well  as  ever.  And  now 
I  must  go  and  look  after  my  box,  or  the  boys  will  be 
pulling  it  to  pieces." 

It  was,  however,  untouched,  for  in  passing  the  ser- 
geant had  told  the  little  crowd  that  if  they  left  it  alone 


1^ 


WITH  WOLFE  IN  CANADA. 


he  would,  on  his  return,  let  all  see  without  payment^ 
and  duringithe  rest  of  the  afternoon  he  was  fully  occu- 
pied with  successive  audiences,  being  obliged  to  make 
his  lectures  brief  in  order  that  all  might  have  their 
turn. 

After  the  sergeant  had  left,  James  took  his  hat  and 
went  for  a  long  walk  in  the  country  in  order  to  escape 
the  congratulations  of  the  other  boys.  The  next  day 
little  Agnes  was  perfectly  well,  and  appeared  with  her 
grandfather  in  the  seat  far  back  in  the  church  which 
he  always  occupied  on  the  Sundays  he  spent  at  Sid- 
mouth.  On  these  occasions  she  was  alway-s  neatly  and 
prettily  dressed,  and,  indeed,  some  of  the  good  women 
of  the  place,  comparing  the  graceful  little  thing  with 
their  own  children,  had  not  been  backward  in  their  criti- 
cisms on  the  folly  of 'the  old  s(iowman  in  dressing  his 
child  out  in  clothes  fit  for  a  lady. 


CHAPTER  II. 


THE  SHOWMAN  S  GRANDCHILD. 


Three  months  later  the  showman  again  appeared  at 
Sidmouth,  but  did  not  set  up  his  box  as  usual. '  Leav- 
ing it  at  his  lodging  he  went  at  once  with  his  grandchild 
to  Mrs,  Walsham's. 

"  I  have  come,  madam,"  he  said,  after  the  first 
inquiries  about  the  child  had  been  answered,  "  on  a  par- 
ticular business.  It  will  seem  a  strange  thing  to  you 
for  a  man  like  me  to  ask,  but  things  are  not  quite  as  they 
seem,  though  I  can't  explain  it  now.  But  I  am  beating 
about  the  bush,  and  not  getting  any  nearer.  I  have 
come  to  ask,  madam,  whether  you  would  take  charge 
of  the  child  for  two  years.  Of  course  I  am  ready  to 
pay  anything  that  you  may  think  proper." 

"  But  I  don't  take  boarders,"  Mrs.  Walsham  said, 
much  surprised  at  the  proposition.  "  I  only  take  girls 
who  come  in  the  morning  and  go  away  in  the  afternoon; 


■■ 


TBlt  SHOWMAN'S  ORANDCH^a 


17 


besides,  they  are  all  a  good  many  years  older  than  your 
grandchild.  None  of  the  girls  who  come  to  me  are 
under  twelve." 

"  I  know,  ma'am,  I  know;  and  I  am  sure  you  must 
think  it  a  great  liberty  on  my  part  to  ask  such  a  thing," 
the  sergeant  said  apologetically.  "  It  is  not  the  teach"- 
ing  I  want,  but  just  a  home  for  her." 

Mrs.  Walsham  felt  puzzled.  She  did  in  her  heart  feel 
it  to  be  a  liberty.  Surely  this  wandering  showman 
would  find  no  difficulty  in  getting  his  grandchild  taken 
care  of  among  people  of  his  own  rank  in  life.  It  did 
seem  most  singular  that  he  should  seek  to  place  the 
child  with  her.  Mrs.  Walsham  was  not  given  to  think- 
ing what  her  neighbors  would  say,  but  she  thought  of 
the  buzz  of  comment  and  astonishment  which  her  taking 
the  cbarge  of  this  child  would  excite.  She  had  been 
particular  in  keeping  her  little  school  to  some  extent 
select,  and  as  it  was  now  as  large  as  she  could  manage 
unaided,  she  was  able  to  make  it  almost  a  favor  to  the 
farmers'  wives  to  take  their  girls. 

But  to  do  Mrs.  Walsham  justice  this  thought  had 
less  influence  with  her  than  that  of  the  time  and  care 
which  would  be  required  by  a  child  of  that  age  in  the 
house.  Certainly,  she  thought,  as  she  looked  at  her 
sitting  with  her  eyes  wide  open  and  an  expression  of 
grave  wonder  in  her  face,  "  she  is  a  little  darling,  and, 
as  Jim  saved  her,  life,  I  have  a  special  interest  in  her; 
but  this  is  out  of  the  question."  It  was  two  or  three 
minutes  before  she  answered  the  showman's  last  words. 

"  No,  it  cannot  be  done.  Sergeant  Wilks.  No  money 
that  could  be  paid  me  would  make  up  to  me  for  the 
charge  of  a  child  of  her  age.  I  am  all  day  in  school, 
and  what  could  a  child,  especially  one  accustomed  to 
be  out  all  day,  do  with  herself?  TTie  worry  and  anxiety 
would  be  immense.  Were  it  not  for  my  school  it  would 
be  different  altogether.  A  child  of  that  age,  especially 
such  a  sweet  little  thing  as  your  granddaughter  seems 
to  be,  would  be  a  pet  and  amusement;  but  as  it  is,  I  am 
sorry  to  say  th^t  it  is  out  of  the  question.    But  surely 


SI 


i8 


WlTlt  WotFE  m  CAKAdA. 


you  will  have  no  difficulty  in  finding  plenty  of  good 
women  who  would  be  glad  to  take  her,  and  to  whom, 
having  children  of  the  same  age,  she  would  be  no 
trouble  whatever." 

"  Yes,"  the  sergeant  said  slowly,  "  I  was  afraid  you 
would  say  that,  ma'am.  Besides,  though  you  are  good 
enough  not  to  say  it,  I  know  that  there  must  be 
other  objections.  I  know  you  must  be  surprised  at 
my  wanting  her  to  be  with  a  lady  like  yourself.  So 
far  as  money  goes  I  could  afford  to  pay  fifty  pounds 
a  year,  and  perhaps  you  might  get  a  girl  who  could 
look  after  Aggie  while  you  are  busy." 

"  Fifty  younds  a  year ! "  Mrs.  Walsham  said,  greatly 
surprised.  "  That  is  a  large  sum,  a  great  deal  too  large 
a  sum  for  you  to  pay  for  the  care  of  such  a  little  child. 
For  half  that  there  are  scores  of  farmers*  wives  who 
would  be  happy  to  take  her,  and  where  she  would  be 
far  more  happy  and  comfortable  than  she  would  be  with 
me. 

"  I  know  I  could  get  plenty  to  take  her,"  the  soldier 
said,  "  but  I  have  reasons,  very  particular  reasons,  why 
I  wish  to  place  her  with  a  lady  for  two  years.  I  cannot 
explain  those  reasons  to  you,  but  you  may  imagine 
they  must  be  strong  ones  for  me  to  be  willing  to  pay 
fifty  pounds  a  year  for  her.  That  money  has  been  laid 
by  from  the  day  she  was  born,  for  that  purpose.  I 
have  other  reasons  of  my  own  for  wishing  that  she  should 
be  at  Sidmouth  rather  than  at  any  other  place;  and 
I  have  another  reason,"  and  a  slight  smile  stole  across 
his  face,  "  for  preferring  that  she  should  be  with  you 
rather  than  anyone  else.  All  this  must  seem  very  strange 
to  you,  madam;  but  at  the  end  of  the  two  years,  when 
you  know  what  my  reasons  were,  you  will  acknowledge 
that  they  were  good  ones. 

"  God  knows,"  he  went  on,  looking  very  grave,  "  what 
a  wrench  it  will  be  for  me  to  part  with  her.  How 
lonely  I  shall  be  as  I  tramp  the  country  without  her 
pretty  prattle  to  listen  to;  but  I  have  got  to  do  it  sooner 
or  later,  and  these  two  years,  when  I  can  see  her  some- 


r 


THG  showman's  GRANDCHILD. 


19 


P 


.•^ 


A- 


timeSi  will  be  a  break,  and  accustom  me  to  do  without 
her  sweet  face.  Please,  madam,"  he  urged,  "  do  not 
give  me  a  final  answer  to-day.  I  shall  not  go  till  Mon- 
day, and  will  call  again,  if  you  will  let  me,  that  morning; 
and  believe  me,  if  I  could  tell  you  all,  I  could  give  you 
reasons  which  would,  I  think,  induce  you  to  change 
your  mind." 

So  saying  he  made  a  military  salute,  took  the  child's 
hand  in  his,  and  was  soon  striding  along  toward  the  sea. 

Mrs.  Walsham  was  some  time  before  she  recovered 
from  her  surprise.  This  Was,  indeed,  a  mysterious 
affair.  The  earnestness  with  which  the  old  soldier 
pleaded  his  cause  had  moved  her  strongly,  and  had 
almost  ^  irsuaded  her  to  accept  the  proposal  which  had 
at  first  seemed  preposterous.  Fifty  pounds  a  year,  too, 
was  certainly  a  handsome  sum.  She  could  get  a  girl 
from  the  village  for  two  or  three  shillings  a  week  to 
look  after  the  child  and  go  out  with  her  during  school 
hours,  and  a  hundred  pounds  would  be  a  very  handsome 
addition  to  the  sum  which  she  had  begun,  little  by 
little,  to  lay  by  for  Jim's  preparation  for  the  medicsd 
profession. 

In  the  five  years  which  would  elapse  before  it  would 
be  time  for  him  to  enter  upon  his  studies  for  it  she 
could  hardly  hope  to  lay  by  more  than  that  sum,  and 
this  would  at  a  stroke  double  it.  Certainly  it  was  a 
tempting  offer.  She  could  not  do  justice  to  the  child, 
could  not  give  her  the  care  and  attention  which  she 
ought  to  have,  and  which  she  could  have  for  such 
a  sum  elsewhere;  but  the  sergeant  knew  exactly  how 
she  was  placed,  and  if  he  was  willing  and  anxious  for 
her  to  assume^  the  charge  of  the  child  why  should  she 
refuse  this  good  offer?  However,  her  pupils  were  wait- 
ing for  her  in  the  next  room,  and  with  an  effort  Mrs, 
Walsham  put  the  matter  aside,  and  went  in  to  them. 
When  James  returned  home  to  dinner  his  mother  related 
to  him  the  whole  conversation.  James  was  more 
amused  than  puzzled. 

^"  It  soems  »  rum  idea,  mother;  but  I  don't  see  why^ 


t 


80 


WITH  WOLFE  tN  CANADA. 


you  shouldn't  take  her.  She  is  a  sweet  little  thing,  and 
will  be  a  great  amusement.  Fifty  pounds  a  year  seems 
a  tremendous  sum  for  a  man  like  that  to  pay;  but  I 
suppose  he  knows  his  own  business,  and  it  will  be  a 
great  pull  for  you.  You  will  be  able  to  have  all  sorts 
of  comforts.  I  should  like  it  very  much.  I  have  often 
wished  I  had  had  a  little  sister,  and  she  can  go  out 
walks  with  me,  you  know;  it  would  be  like  having 
a  big  dog  with  one,  only  much  jollier." 

"  Yes,"  his  mother  said  smiling;  "  and  I  shouldn't 
be  surprised  if  you  wanted  to  throw  sticks  into  the  water 
for  her  to  fetch  them  out,  and  to  be  taking  her  out 
for  a  'night's  fishing,  and  be  constantly  bringing  her 
home  splashed  with  that  nasty  red  mud  from  head  to 
foot.  You  would  be  a  nke  playmate  for  a  little  girl, 
Jim.  Perhaps  it  is  that  special  advantage  that  the  ser- 
geant had  in  his  mind's  eye  when  he  was  so  anxious  to 
put  her  with  me." 

James  laughed. 

"  I  would  see  that  she  didn't  come  to  any  harm, 
anyhow,  you  know;  and,  after  all,  I  suppose  it  was  my 
picking  her  out  of  the  sea  that  had  something  to  do 
with  his  first  thinking  of  putting  her  with  you." 

"  I  suppose  it  had,  Jim,"  she  said  more  seriously. 
"  But  what  do  you  think,  my  boy?  You  know  there  are 
disadvantages  in  it.  There  will  be  a  good  deal  of  talk 
about  my  taking  this  showman's  grandchild,  and  some 
of  the  farmers'  wives  won't  like  it." 

"Then  let  them  dislike  it,"  James  said  indignantly. 
"The  child  is  as  good  as  their  daughters  any  day. 
Why,  I  noticed  her  in  church  looking  like  a  little  lady. 
There  was  not  a  child  there  to  compare  to  her." 

"  Yes,  I  have  noticed  her  myself,"  Mrs.  Walsham 
said.  "She  is  a  singularly  pretty  and  graceful  child; 
but  it  vtrill  certainly  cause  remark." 

"  Well,  mother,  you  can  easily  say,  what  is  really  the 
fact,  that  you  naturally  felt  an  interest  in  her  because 
I  picked  her  out  of  the  water.  Besides,  if  peuple  make 
remarks  they  will  soon  be  tired  of  that;  and  if  not^  I  can 


-:f:. 


THE  Showman's  grandchild. 


«t 


i 


get  into  some  scrape  or  other  and  give  them  something 
else  to  talk  about." 

Accordingly  when  Sergeant  Wilks  called  on  Monday 
morning  for  his  :  iswer,  Mrs.  Walsham  told  him  that 
she  had  decided  to  accept  his  offer. 

"  You  are  aware  how  I  am  placed,"  she  said,  "  and 
that  I  cannot  give  her  the  care  and  time  which  I  could 
wish,  and  which  she  ought  to  have  for  such  a  liberal 
payment  as  you  propose;  but  you  know  that  before- 
hand, anr  you  see  that  for  two  years'  payments  I  could 
not  sacrince  my  school  connection,  which  I  should  have 
to  do  if  I  gave  her  the  time  I  should  wish." 

"  I  understand,  madam,"  he  said,  "  and  I  am  grateful 
to  you  for  consenting  to  take  her.  She  is  getting  ,00 
old  now  to  wander  about  with  me,  and  since  the  narrow 
escape  she  had  last  time  I  was  here  I  have  felt  anxious 
whenever  she  was  out  of  my  sight.  It  would  not  suit 
me  to  put  her  in  ar  farmhouse.  I  want  her  to  learn 
to  speak  nicely,  and  I  have  done  my  best  to  teach  her; 
but  if  she  went  to  a  farmhouse  she  would  be  picking 
up  all  sorts  of  country  words,  and  I  want  her  to  talk 
like  a  little  lady.  So  that  is  settled,  ma'am.  I  am  going 
on  to  Exeter  from  here,  and  shall  get  her  a  stock  of 
clothes  there,  and  will  bring  her  back  next  Saturday. 
Will  it  suit  you  to  take  her  then?  " 

Mrs.  Walsham  said  that  would  suit  very  well;  and 
an  hour  later  thf^  sergeant  set  out  from  Sidmouth  with 
his  box,  Aggie  trotting  alongside  talking  continu- 
ously. 

"  But  why  am  I  to  stop  with  that  lady,  grampa  and 
not  to  go  about  with  you  any  more?  I  shan't  like  it. 
I  like  going  about,  though  I  get  so  tired  sometimes 
when  you  are  showing  the  pictures,  and  I  like  being 
with  you.  It  isn't  'cause  I  have  been  naughty,  is  it? 
'cause  I  fell  out  of  the  boat  into  the  water?  I  won't 
never  get  into  a  boat  again,  and  I  didn't  mean  to  fall 
out,  you  know." 

"  No,  Aggie,  it's  not  that,"  the  sergeant  said.  "  You 
are  always  a  good  girl — at  least,  not  always,  because 


i2 


WITH  WOLFE  IN  CANADA* 


sometimes  you  get  into  passions,  you  know.  Still,  alto- 
gether you  are  a  good  little  girl.  Still,  you  see,  you 
can't  always  be  going  about  the  country  with  me." 

"  But  why  not,  grampa?  " 

"Well,  my  dear,  because  great  girls  can't  go  about 
the  country  like  men;  it  wouldn't  be  right  and  proper 
they  should." 

"  Why  shouldn't  it,  grampa? "  the  child  persisted. 

"  Well,  Aggie,  I  can't  exactly  explain  to  you  why, 
but  so  it  is.  Men  and  boys  have  to  work;  they  go 
about  in  ships,  or  as  soldiers  to  fight  for  their  country, 
just  as  I  did.  Girls  and  women  have  to  stop  at  home 
and  keep  house  and  nurse  babies  and  that  sort  of  thing. 
God  made  man  to  be  hard  and  rough  and  to  work  and 
go  about;  he  made  woman  gentle  and  soft  to  stop  at 
home  and  make  things  comfortable." 

Aggie  meditated  for  some  distance  in  silence  upon 
this  viev/  of  the  case.  "  But  I  have^een  women  working 
in  the  fields,  grampa,  and  some  of  them  didn't  seem  very 
soft  and  gentle." 

"  No,  Aggie,  things  don't  always  go  just  as  they 
ought  to  do;  and  you  see  when  people  are  poor,  and 
men  can't  earn  enough  wages,  then  their  wives  and 
daughters  have  to  help;  and  then  you  see  they  get 
rough,  more  like  men,  because  they  are  not  doing  their 
proper  work ;  but  I  want  you  to  grow  up  soft  and  gentle, 
and  so  for  a  time  I  want  you  to  live  with  that  lady  with 
the  nice  boy  who  pulled  you  out  of  the  water,  and  they 
will  make  you  very  happy,  and  I  shall  come  and  see 
you  sometime." 

"  I  like  him,"  the  child  said  with  a  nod;  "  but  I  would 
rather  be  with  you,  you  know." 

"And  the  lady  will  teach  you  to  read,  Aggie;  you 
have  learned  your  letfers,  you  know.** 

Aggie  shook  her  head,  to  show  that  this  part  of  the 
programme  was  not  particularly  to  her  liking. 

"  Do  you  think  the  boy  will  play  with  me,  grampa?  ** 

"  I  dare  say  he  will,  Aggie,  when  you  are  very  good; 
and  you  must  never  forget,  you  know,  that  he  saved 


I 


tl(£  showman's  GRANl^CHlLD. 


*3 


i 


your  life.  Just  think  how  unhappy  I  shculd  be  if  he 
had  not  got  you  out  of  the  water." 

"The  water  was  cold  and  nasty,"  Aggie  said,  "and 
it  seemed  so  warm  and  nice  to  my  hands.  Aggie  won't 
go  near  the  water  any  more.  Of  course  if  the  boy  is 
with  me,  I  can  go,  because  he  won't  let  me  tumble  in. 
Shall  I  get  into  the  basket  now,  grampa?    I  is  tired." 

"  Oh,  nonsense,  little  woman  I  you  have  not  walked 
half  a  mile  yet.  Anyhow,  you  must  trot  along  until 
you  get  to  the  top  of  this  hill,  then  you  shall  have  a  lift 
for  a  bit." 

And  so,  with  the  child  sometimes  walking  and  some- 
times riding,  sometimes  asleep  in  her  basket  and  some- 
times chatting  merrily  to  her  grandfather,  the  pair  made 
their  way  across  the  country  toward  E^^eter. 

There  was  no  little  talk  in  Sidmouth  when  on  the 
following  Sunday  the  showman's  grandchild  appeared 
in  Mrs.  Walsham's  pew  in  church,  and  it  became  known 
that  she  had  become  an  inmate  of  her  house.  It  was 
generally  considered  that  Mrs.  Walsham  had  let  herself 
down  greatly  by  taking  the  showman's  grandchild,  and 
one  or.  two  of  the  mothers  of  her  pupils  talked  about 
taking  them  away.  One  or  two  indeed  called  upon  her 
to  remonstrate  personally,  but  they  gained  nothing  by 
the  step. 

"I  do  not  understand  what  you  mean,"  she  said 
quietly,  "  by  saying  that  the  child  is  not  fit  to  associate 
with  my  other  pupils.  She  is  singularly  gentle  and 
taking  in  her  manner.  She  expresses  herself  better 
than  any  child  of  her  own  age  in  Sidmouth,  so  tar  as 
I  know.  There  are  few  so  neatly  and  prettily  dressed. 
What  is  there  to  object  to?  Her  grandfather  has  been 
a  sergeant  in  the  army;  he  bears  a  good  character,  and 
is  liked  wherever  he  goes.  I  do  not  consider  that 
James  or  myself  are  in  any  way  demeaned  by  sitting 
down  to  meals  with  the  child,  who  indeed  behaves  as 
prettily  and  nicely  as  one  could  wish,  and  I  certainly 
do  not  see  that  any  of  my  pupils  can  be  .injuriously 
effected  by  the  fact  that  for  an  hour  or  two  in  the  da;{ 


im 


u 


yf/irU  woLFfi  iu  (lAttAtA, 


she  learns  her  lessons  in  the  same  room  with  them] 
Had  I  thought  that  they  would  be,  I  should  not  have 
received  her.  I  shall,  of  course,  be  sorry  if  any  of  my 
pupils  are  taken  away,  but  as  I  have  several  girls  only 
waiting  for  vacancies,  it  would  make  no  difference  to 
me  pecuniarily." 

And  so  it  happened  that  Mrs.  Walsham  lost  none  of 
her  pupils,  and  in  a  short  time  the  wonder  died  out; 
indeed  the  child  herself  was  so  pretty  and  taking  in  her 
ways  that  it  was  impossible  to  make  any  objection  to 
her  personally.  Mrs.  Walsham  had  been  struck  by  the 
self-command  which  she  showed  at  parting  with  her 
grandfather.  Her  eyes  were  full  of  tears,  her  lip  quiv- 
ered, and  she  could  scarcely  speak;  but  there  was  no 
loud  wailing,  no  passionate  outburst.  Her  grandfather 
had  impressed  upon  her  that  the  parting  was  for  her 
own  good,  and  child  though  she  was,  she  felt  how  great 
a  sacrifice  he  was  making  in  parting  with  her,  and 
although  she  could  not  keep  the  tears  from  streaming 
down  her  cheeks,  or  silence  her  sobs  as  she  bade  him 
good-by,  she  tried  hard  to  suppress  "her  grief.  The 
pain  of  parting  was  indeed  fully  as  great  to  Sergeant 
Wilks  as  to  his  granddaughter,  and  it  was  with  a  very 
husky  voice  that  he  bade  her  good-by,  and  then  putting 
her  into  Mrs.  Walsham's  arms,  walked  hastily  away. 

Aggie  was  soon  at  home.  She  and  James  very 
quickly  became  allies,  and  the  boy  was  ever  ready  to 
amuse  her,  often  giving  up  his  own  plans  to  take  her  for 
a  walk  to  pick  flowers  in  the  hedgerow,  or  to  sail  a  tiny 
boat  for  her  in  the  pools  left  as  -the  sea  retired.  Mrs. 
Walsham  found  to  her  surprise  that  the  child  gave  little 
trouble.  She  was  quiet  and  painstaking  during  the 
haif-hours  in  the  morning  and  afternoon  when  she  was 
in  the  school-room,  while  at  meal  times  her  prattle  and 
talk  amused  both  mother  and  son,  and  altogether  she 
made  the  house  brighter  and  happier  than  it  was  before. 

In  two  months  the  sergeant  came  around  again.  He 
did  not  bring  his  box  with  him,  having  left  it  at  his  last 
baiting  place,  telling  James,  who  happened  to  meet  him 


THE  showman's  GRANDCHILD. 


^ 

% 


as 


*. 


I 


as  he  came  into  Sidmouth,  that  he  did  not  mean  to 
bring  his  show  there  again. 

"  It  will  be  better  for  the  child,"  he  explained.  "  She 
has  done  with  the  peep-show  now,  and  I  do  not  want 
her  to  be  any  longer  associated  with  it." 

Aggie  wi^s  de^'ghted  to  see  him,  and  sprang  into  his 
arms  with  k  scream  of  joy  as  he  entered.  After  a  few 
minutes'  talk  Mrs.  Walsham  suggested  that  she  should 
put  on  her  hat  and  go  for  a  walk  with  him,  and  in  high 
contentment  the  child  trotted  off,  holding  her  grand- 
father's hand.  Turning  to  the  left  the  sergeant  took 
the  path  up  the  nill,  and  when  he  reached  the  top,  sat 
down  on  the  short  turf,  with  Aggie  nestling  up  against 
him. 

"  So  you  are  quite  well  and  happy,  Aggie?  "  he  asked. 

"  Quite  well,  grampa,  and  very  happy ;  but  I  do  wish 
so  much  that  you  were  here.  Oh,  it  would  be  so  nice 
to  have  you  to  go  out  witfi  every  day!  " 

"  I  am  afraid  that  cannot  be  managed,  Aggie.  I 
have  been  busy  so  long  that  I  could  not  settie  down 
quietly  here;  besides,  I  must  live,  you  know." 

"  But  wouldn't  people  give  you  money  for  the  show  if 
you  lived  here,  grampa?  You  always  got  money  here 
the  same  as  other  places." 

"  Yes,  my  dear,  but  I  could  not  get  fresh  pictures 
every  day,  and  should  soon  tire  them  by  showing  the 
old  house." 

"  But  you  are  sorry  sometimes,  grampa,  not  to  have 
me  with  you?  " 

"  Yes,  Aggie,  very  sorry.  I  miss  you  terribly  some- 
times, and  I  am  always  thinking  about  you." 

"  Then  why  don't  you  take  me  away  again,  grampa?  " 

"  Because,  as  I  told  you,  Aggie,  I  want  you  to  learn 
to  read,  and  to  grow  up  quite  a  little  lady." 

"  Does  reading  make  one  a  lady,  grampa?  " 

"  No,  Agg^e,  not  by  itself,  but  with  other  things." 

"  And  when  I  am  quite  grown  up  and  big,  and  Vnow 
how  to  read  nicely,  shall  1  be  able  to  go  with  you 
again?  " 


wmmmm§ 


/ 


96 


WITH   WOLFE  IN  CANADA. 


"We  will  sec  about  th»t,  Aggie,  when  the  time 
comes.  There  is  plenty  of  time  yet  to  think  about 
that." 

"  But  I  am  getting  on  very  fast,  grampa,  and  the 
lady  says  I  am  a  good  g^rl.  So  it  won't  be  such  a  very 
long  time  before  I  can  leave." 

"  It  will  be  some  time  yet.  You  have  Snly  got  to 
read  little  words  yet,  but  tliere  are  lots  of  long  words 
which  you  will  come  to  presently.  But  Mrs.  Walsham 
tells  me  that  you  are  getting  on  nicely,  and  that  you  are 
a  very  good  girl,  which  pleases  me  very  much,  and  when 
I  am  walking  along  with  my  box  I  shall  like  to  be  able 
to  think  of  you  as  being  quite  comfortable  and  happy." 

"And  I  go  walks  with  Jim,  grampa,  and  Jim  has 
made  me  a  boat,  and  he  says  some  day  when  it^i^  very 
fine  and  quiet  he  will  take  me  out  in  a  big  bo^t;  like 
that  boat,  you  know;  and  he  is  going  to  ask  you  if  he 
may,  for  the  lady  said  I  musf  not  go  out  with  him  till 
he  has  asked  you.  And  he  said  he  won't  let  me  tumble 
over,  and  I  am  going  to  sit  quite,  quite  still." 

"  Yes,  Aggie,  I  don't  see  any  harm  in  your  going 
out  with  him.  I  am  sure  he  will  only  take  you  when 
it  is  fine,  and  he  will  look  after  you  well.  You  like 
him,  don't  you?"  ^ 

"  Oh !  I  do,  grampa ;  and  you  know  it  was  him  who 
got  me  out  of  the  water,  else  I  should  never  have  come 
out,  and  never  have  seen  grampa  again;  and  he  has 
made  me  a  boat.    Oh,  yes,  I  do  like  him!  " 

''  That's  right,  my  dear;  always  stick  to  those  who 
are  good  to  you." 

A  few  days  after  this,  as  James  was  sailing  the  toy 
boat  for  Aggie's  amusement  in  a  pool,  a  boy  sauntered 
up.  He  was  somewhat  taller  than  James  Walsham, 
and  at  least  two  years  older.  He  was  well  dressed, 
and  James  knew  him  as  the  nephew  and  heir  of  the 
squire. 

It  was  not  often  that  Richard  Horton  came  down 
into  the  village.     He  was  accustomed  to  be  treated  with 

d  good  de^l  of  defer^oc^  at  th^  H»U;  mi  to  prdcr 


F 


1/ 


il 


THE  showman's  GRANDCHILD. 


27 


time 
about 

id  the 
a  very 

got  to 
words 
ilsham 
ou  are 
i  when 
5e  able 
lappy." 
iiti  has 
i$  very 
kt;  like 
u  if  he 
lim  till 
tumble 

going 
1  when 
>u  like 

m  who 
e  come 
he  has 

se  who 

he  toy 
mtered 
ilsham, 
Iressed, 
of  the 

;  down 
d  with 

order 


servants  and  grooms  about  pretty  much  as  he  chose, 
and  the  indifference  with  which  the  fisherboys  regarded 
him  offended  him  greatly.  He  was  a  spoilt  boy.  His 
uncle  had  a  resident  tutor  for  him,  but  the  selection 
had  been  a  bad  one.  The  library  was  large  and  good, 
the  tutor  fond  of  reading,  and  he  was  content  to  let 
the  boy  learn  as  little  as  he  chose,  provided  that  he  did 
not  trouble  him.  As  to  any  instruction  beyond  books,  he 
never  thought  of  giving  it. 

The  squire  never  interfered.  He  was  a  silent  and 
disappointed  man.  He  attended  to  his  duties  as  a 
magistrate  and  to  the  management  of  his  estate,  but 
seldom  went  beyond  the  lodge  gates.  He  took  his 
meals  by  himself,  and  often  .did  not  see  his  nephew  for 
•  a  week  together,  and  had  no  idea  but  that  he  was  pur- 
suing his  studies  regularly  with  his  tutor.  Thus  the 
character  of  Richard  Horton  formed  itself  unchecked. 
At  best  it  was  a  bad  one,  but  under  other  circumstances 
it  might  have  been  improved. 

Up  to  the  age  of  ten  he  had  lived  in  London  with  his 
father  and  mother,  the  latter  a  sister  of  the  squire,  who 
having  married  beneath  her,  to  the  indignation  pf  Mr. 
Linthorne,  he  had  never  seen  her  afterward.  Four 
years  before  the  story  begins  she  had  received  a  letter 
from  him  saying  that  as  her  eldest  son  was  now  his 
heir,  he  wished  him  to  come  and  live  with  him  and  be 
prepared  to  take  his  place.  The  Hortons,  who  had  a 
numerous  family,  at  once  accepted  the  offer,  and 
Richard,  hearing  that  he  was  going  to  a  grand  house, 
and  would  no  doubt  have  a  pony  and  all  sorts  of  nice 
things,  left  his  father  and  mother  without  a  tear. 

He  was  essentially  selfish;  he  was  vain  of  his  good 
looks,  which  were  certainly  striking;  and  with  his 
changed  fortunes  he  became  arrogant,  and,  as  the 
squire's  servants  said,  hateful,  and  yet  the  change  had 
brought  him  less  pleasure  ihan  he  expected.  It  was 
true  that  he  had  the  pony,  thtt  he  was  not  obliged  to 
trouble  himself  with  lessons,  that  he  was  r.ii  important 
person  at  the  Hall;  I>ai  he  had  no  playfellows,  no  one 


up 


P" 


28 


WITH  WOLFE  IN  CANADA. 


to  admire  his  grandeur,  and  the  days  often  passed 
heavily,  and  there  was  a  look  of  discontent  and  peevish- 
ness upon  his  handsome  face. 

Perhaps  the  reason  why  he  so  seldom  came  down 
into  Sidmouth  was  not  only  because  the  fisherboys  were 
not  sufficiently  impressed  with  his  importance,  but 
because  they  looked  so  much  happier  and  inore  con- 
tented than  he  felt  in  spite  of  his  numerous  advantages. 
On  this  day  he  was  in  a  particularly  bad  temper.  He 
had  lamed  his  pony  the  day  before  by  riding  it  furiously 
over  a  bad  road  after  it  had  cast  a  shoe.  The  gardener 
had  objected  to  his  picking  more  than  half  a  dozen 
peaches  which  had  just  come  into  perfection,  and  had 
threatened  to  appeal  to  the  squire. 

Altogether  he  was  out  of  sorts,  and  had  walked  down 
to  the  sea  with  a  vague  hope  that  something  might 
turn  up  to  amuse  him.  He  stood  for  some  little  time 
watching  James  sail  the  boat,  and  then  strode  down 
to  the  edge  of  the  pool.  The  boat  was  a  model  of  a 
smack,  with  brown  sails.  James  had  taken  a  good  deal 
of  pains  with  it,  and  it  was  an  excellent  model.  Pres- 
ently in  crossing  she  stuck  in  a  shallow  some  twelve 
feet  from  the  edge.  The  intervening  stretch  of  water 
was  a  foot  deep. 

James  picked  up  some  small  stones  and  threw  them 
close  to  her,  that  the  tiny  wave  they  made  might  float 
her  oflf.    He  tried  several  times  without  success. 

"What's  the  use  of  such  little  stones  as  that?" 
Richard  said  roughly;  "you  wijil  never  get  her  oflf  like 
that ; "  and  picking  up  one  as  large  as  his  fist,  he  threw 
it  with  some  force.  It  struck  the  mast  and  broke  it 
asunder,  and  knocked  the  boat  en  to  her  side.  James 
Walsham  uttered  an  angry  exclamation. 

"  You  are  a  bad  boy ! "  Aggie  said  passionately. 
"  You  are  a  bad  boy  to  break  my  boat; "  and  she  burst 
into  tears. 

"I  didn't  mean  to  do  it,  you  little  fool!"  Richard 
said  angrily,  vexed  more  at  his  own  clumsiness  than  at 
the  damage  it  h?id  caused*    "WJiat  are  you  tmk" 


I 


THfi  SHi  WMAN's  6l(AN]^CHtLD.  ^9 

ing  such  a  beastly  noise  about?"  and  he  gave  her  a 
push. 

It  was  not  a  hard  one,  but  the  ground  was  slippery, 
and  the  child's  foot  slipped,  and  she  fell  at  the  edge  of 
the  pool,  her  dress  going  partly  into  the  water.  At  the 
same  instant  Richard  reeled  and  almost  fell  beside  her, 
from  a  heavy  blow  between  the  eyes  from  James* 
fist. 

"You  insolent  blackguard!"  he  exclaimed  furiously, 
•"  I  will  pay  you  for  this;"  and  he  rushed  at  James. 

The  combat  was  not  a  long  one.  Hard  work  at  row- 
ing and  sailing  had  strengthened  Jim  Walsham's 
muscles,  and  more  than  balanced  the  advantage  in 
height  and  age  of  his  adversary.  He  had  had,  too, 
more  than  one  fight  in  his  time,  and  after  the  first  sud- 
den burst  of  passion  caused  by  the  overthrow  of  Aggie, 
he  fought  coolly  and  steadily,  while  Richard  rained  his 
blows  wildly  without  attempting  to  guard  his  face. 

The  child  on  regaining  her  feet  ran  crying  loudly  to- 
ward the  beach,  making  for  two  fishermen  who  were 
engaged  in  mending  a  net  some  distance  away;  but 
before  she  could  reach  them  to  beg  for  aid  for  her  cham- 
pion the  fight  was  over,  terminating  by  a  heavy  right- 
handed  hit  from  James  which  landed  Richard  Horton 
on  his  back  in  the  pool.  James  stood  quietly  awaiting 
a  renewal  of  the  conflict  when  he  arose,  but  Richard  had 
had  enough  of  it :  one  of  his  eyes  was  already  puffed  and 
red,  his  nose  bleeding,  and  his  lip  cut;  his  clothes  were 
soaked  from  head  to  foot,  and  smeared  with  red  mud. 

"  I  will  pay  you  for  this,  you  see  if  I  don't! "  Richard 
gasped  hoarsely. 

"What!  have  you  had  enough  of  it?"  James  said 
scornfully.  "I  thought  you  weren't  any  good;  a  fel- 
low who  would  bully  a  little  girl  is  sure  to  be  a  coward." 

Richard  moved  as  if  he  would  renew  the  fight,  but  he 
thought  better  of  it,  and  with  a  furipu?  exclamation 
hurried  away  toward  the  Hall. 

James,  without  paying  any  further  heed  to  him, 
waded  after  the  boat^  and  having  recovered  it,  walked 


Se 


WITH  WOLPS  IN  CANADA. 


off  toward  the  child,  who,  on  seeing  his  opponent  had 
moved  off,  was  running  down  to  meet  him. 

"  Here  is  the  boat,  Aggie,"  he  said;  "  there  is  no  great 
harm  done,  only  the  mast  and  yard  broken.  I  can 
easily  put  you  in  fresh  ones;"  but  the  child  paid  no 
attention  to  the  boat. 

"  He  is  a  wicked  bad  boy,  Tim;  and  did  he  hurt 
you?" 

"  Oh,  no,  he  didn't  hurt  me,  Aggie,  at  least  nothing 
to  speak  of.  I  hurt  him  a  good  deal  more;  I  paid  him 
out  well  for  breaking  your  boat  and  pushing  you  down, 
the  cowardly  brute  I  " 

"  Only  look,  Jim,"  she  said,  holding  out  her  frock; 
*'what  will  she  say?" 

James  laughed. 

"  Mother  won't  say  anything,"  he  said;  "  she  is  accus- 
tomed to  my  coming  in  all  muddy." 

"  But  she  said  '  Keep  your  frock  clean/  and  it's  not 
clean! "  Aggie  said  in  dismay. 

"  Yes,  but  that  is  not  your  fault,  little  one;  I  will 
make  it  all  right  with  her,  don't  you  fret.  Come  on, 
we  had  better  go  home  and  change  it  as  soon  as  pos- 
sible." 

They  passed  close  by  the  two  fishermen  on  their  way. 

"  You  gave  it  to  the  young  squire  finely.  Master  Wal- 
sham,"  one  of  them  said,  "  and  served  him  right,  too. 
We  chanced  to  be  looking  at  the  moment  and  saw  it  all. 
He  is  a  bad  un',  he  is,  by  what  they  say  at  the  Hall. 
I  heard  one  of  the  grooms  talking  last  night  down  at 
the  Ship,  and  a  nice  character  he  gave  him.  This 
thrashing  may  do  him  some  good;  and  look  you,  Mas- 
ter Walsham,  if  he  makes  a  complaint  to  the  squire, 
and  it's  likely  enough  he  will  get  up  a  fine  story  of  how 
it  came  about, — ^the  groom  said  he  could  lie  like  King 
Pharaoh, — you  just  send  word  to  me,  and  me  and  Bill 
will  go  up  to  the  squire  and  tell  him  the  truth  of  the 
matter." 

Mrs.  Walsham  felt  somewhat  alarmed  when  her  son 
told  her  what  had  happened,  for  the  squire  was  a  great 


< 


tHfi  SHdWMAl7'S  CftAK^CHtLD. 


St 


I 


( 


man  at  Sidmouth,  a  magistrate,  and  the  owner  of  the 
greater  part  of  the  place  as  well  as  of  the  land  around  it; 
and  although  Mrs.  Walsham  did  not  hold  the  same 
exaggerated  opinion  of  his  powers  as  did  the  majority 
of  his  neighbors,  who  would  scarcely  have  dreamed  of 
opposing  It  had  the  squire  ordered  anyone  to  be  hung 
and  quartered,  still  she  felt  that  it  was  a  somewhat  ter- 
rible thing  that  her  son  should  iii.ve  thrashed  the 
nephew  and  heir  of  the  great  man. 

In  the  evening  tliere  was  a  knock  at  the  door,  and  the 
little  maid  came  in  with  eyes  wide  open  with  alarm,  for 
she  had  heard  of  the  afternoon's  battle,  to  say  that  the 
constable  wished  to  speak  to  Mrs.  Walsham. 

"  Servant,  ma'am,"  he  said  as  he  entered.  "  I  am 
sorry  to  be  here  on  an  unpleasant  business;  but  I  have 
got  to  say  as  the  squire  wishes  to  see  Master  Walsham 
in  the  justice-room  at  ten  o'clock  on  a  charge  of  'sault 
and  battery.  Don't  you  be  afeard,  ma'am,"  he  went  on 
confidentially.  "  I  don't  think  as  anything  is  going  to 
be  done  to  him.  I  aint  got  no  warrant,  and  so  I  don't 
look  upon  it  as  regular  businers.  I  expects  it  will 
be  a  blowing  up.  It  will  be  just  the  squire  and 
not  the  magistrate,  I  takes  it.  He  told  me  to  have 
him  up  there  at  ten,  but  as  he  said  nothing  about 
custody  I  thought  I  would  do  it  my  own  way  and 
come  to  you  quiet  like;  so  if  you  say  as  Master 
Walsham  shall  be  up  there  at  ten  o'clock  I'll  just  take 
your  word  for  it  and  won't  come  to  fetch  him.  The 
doctor  was  alius  very  good  to  me  and  my  missus,  and 
1  shouldn't  like  to  be  walking  through  Sidmouth  with 
my  hand  on  his  §on's  collar." 

"Thank  you,  Hobson,"  Mrs.  Walsham  said  quietly. 
"  You  can  rely  upon  it  my  son  shall  be  there  punctu- 
ally; he  has  nothing  to  be  afraid  or  ashamed  of." 

Full  of  rage  as  Richard  Horton  had  been  as  he 
started  for  home,  he  would  never  have  brought  the 
matter  before  the  squire  on  his  own  account.  His  case 
was  too  weak,  and  he  had  been  thrashed  by  a  boy 
younger  than  himself.    Thus  lie  woiild  have  probably^ 


3^ 


WITH  WOLFfe  IM  CANADA. 


\ 


chosen  some  other  way  of  taking  his  vengeance;  but  it 
happened  that  just  as  he  arrived  home  he  had  met  his 
tutor  coming  out.  The  latter  was  astounded  at  Rich- 
ard's appearance,  his  eyes  were  already  puffed  so  much 
that  he  could  scarcely  see  out  of  them,  his  lips  were  cut 
and  swollen,  his  shirt  stained  with  blood,  his  clothes 
drenched  and  plastered  with  red  mud. 

"  Why,  what  on  earth  has  happened,  Richard?  " 

Richard  had  already  determined  upon  his  version  of 
the  story. 

"  A  brute  of  a  boy  knocked  me  down  into  the  water/* 
he  said,  "and  then  knocked  me  about  till  he  almost 
killed  me." 

"  But  what  made  him  assault  you  in  this  outrageous 
manner?  "  his  tutor  asked.  "  Surely  all  the  boys  about 
here  must  know  you  by  sight;  and  how  one  of  them 
would  dare  to  strike  you  I  cannot  conceive." 

"  I  know  the  fellow,"  Richard  said  angrily;  "  he  is  the 
son  of  that  doctor  fellow  who  died  two  years  ago." 

"  But  what  made  him  do  it?  "  the  tutor  repeated. 

"  He  was  sailing  his  boat  and  it  got  stuck,  and  he 
threw  in  some  stones  to  get  it  off,  and  I  helped  him, 
and  I  happened  to  hit  the  mast  of  his  beastly  boat,  and 
then  he  flew  at  me  like  a  tiger,  and  that's  all." 

"  Well,  it  seems  to  be  a  monstrous  assault,  Richard, 
and  you  must  speak  to  the  squire  about  it." 

"Oh,  no,  I  shan't,"  Richard  said  hastily;  "I  don't 
want  any  row  about  it,  and  I  will  pay  him  off  some  other 
way.  I  could  lick  him  easy  enough  if  it  had  been  a  fair 
fight,  only  he  knocked  me  down  before  I  was  on  my 
guard.     No,  I  shan't  say  anything  about  it.*' 

But  Richard's  tutor,  on  thinking  the  matter  over, 
determined  to  speak  to  the  squire.  Only  ^ht  evening 
before  Mr.  Linthorne  had  surprised  him  by  tasking  him 
several  questions  as  to  Richard's  progress  and  conduct, 
and  had  said  something  about  examining  him  himself, 
to  see  how  he  was  getting  on.  This  had  caused  Mr. 
Robertson  no  little  alarm,  for  he  knew  that  even  the 
most  supetficial  questioning  would  betray  the  extent  oi 


il 


*^. 


»-» 


THE  SHOWMAN  3  GRANDCHILD. 


33 


/ 


il 


Richard*s  ignorance,  and  he  had  resolved  that  hence- 
forth he  would  endeavor  to  assert  his  authority  and  to 
insist  upon  Richard's  devoting  a  certain  portion  of  each 
day  regularly  to  study.  Should  the  squire  meet  the  boy 
anyv'here  about  the  house  he  must  at  once  notice  the 
condition  of  his  face,  and  even  if  he  did  not  meet  him 
he  could  not  fail  to  notice  it  on  Sunday  when  he  sat 
beside  him  in  the  pew.  It  would  be  better,  therefore, 
that  he  should  at  once  report  the  matter  to  him.  With- 
out saying  a  word  to  Richard  of  his  intentions  he  there- 
fore went  to  the  squire's  study  and  told  him  what  had 
taken  place  as  he  had  learned  it  from  Richard.  The 
squire  listened  silently. 

"  Very  well,  Mr.  Robertson,  you  were  quite  right  to 
tell  me  about  it;  of  course  I  cannot  suffer  my  nephew 
to  be  treated  in  this  manner,  at  the  same  time  I  am 
sorry  that  it  was  Walsham's  son.  I  don't  know  any- 
thing about  the  boy,  and  should  not  know  him  even  by  ' 
sight,  but  I  had  an  esteem  for  his  father,  who  was  a 
hard-working  man,  and  I  believe  clever;  he  used  to 
attend  here  whenever  any  of  the  servants  were  ill,  and 
I  had  intended  to  do  something  for  the  boy.  I  am 
sorry  he  has  turned  out  so  badly;  however,  I  will  have 
him  up  here  and  speak  to  him.  This  sort  of  thing  can- 
not be  permitted." 

And  accordingly  orders  were  g^ven  to  the  constable. 
When  in  the  evening  Mr.  Robertson  informed  Richard 
what  he  had  done,  the  boy  flew  into  a  terrible  passion, 
and  abused  his  tutor  with  a  violence  of  language  which 
shocked  and  astonished  him,  and  opened  his  eyes  to  his 
own  culpability  in  allowing  him  to  go  on  his  way  un- 
checked. He  in  vain  endeavored  to  silence  the  furious 
lad.  He  had  been  so  long  without  exercising  any 
authority  that  he  had  now  no  authority  to  exercise,  and 
after  an  angry  scene  Richard  flung  himself  out  of  the 
room  and  left  his  tutor  in  a  $tat^  l?orderin|;  on  congter- 
Ijatioij, 


34 


WITH   WOLFE  IN  CANADA. 


CHAPTER   III. 


THE  JUSTICE  ROOM. 

Richard's  feelings  were  not  to  be  envied  as  he  lay 
awake  that  night  thinking  over  what  had  taken  place 
in  the  morning.  It  had  never  for  a  moment  entered 
his  mind  that  his  tutor  would  repeat  his  statement  to 
the  squire,  and  he  would  have  given  a  good  deal  if 
he  had  not  made  it;  however,  there  was  nothing  for 
him  now  but  to  stick  to  the  story,  and  he  felt  but  little 
doubt  of  the  result.  He  had  no  idea  that  any  but  the 
actors  in  it  had^witnessed  the  scene  by  the  pool,  and  he 
felt  confident  that  his  uncle  would,  as  a  matter  of  course, 
take  his  word  in  preference  to  that  of  this  boy,  who 
would  naturally  tell  lies  to  screen  himself.  Of  course 
the  child  was  there,  but  no  one  would  mind  what  a  baby 
like  that  said.  Still  it  was  a  nuisance,  and  he  gnashed 
his  teeth  with  rage  at  the  interference  of  his  tutor  in  the 
matter. 

"  I  will  get  rid  of  him  somehow  before  long,"  he  said. 
*'  I  will  pay  him  out  for  his  meddling  as  sure  as  my 
name's  Richard  Horton.  I  will  get  him  out  of  this 
before  three  months  are  gone." 

The  next  morning  at  breakfast  Richard  received  a 
message  from  the  squire  that  he  was  to  be  present  at 
ten  o'clock  in  the  justice  room,  and  accordingly  at  that 
hour  he  presented  himself  there  with  a  confident  air, 
but  with  an  inward  feeling  of  misgiving.  The  squire 
was  sitting  at  his  table  with  his  clerk  beside  him.  Mr. 
Robertson  was  in  a  chair  a  short  distance  oflf.  The 
constable  was  standing  by  the  side  of  James  Walsham 
at  the  other  end  of  the  room.  Mr.  Linthorne  nodded 
to  his  nephew. 

"  I  wish  you  to  repeat  the  story  which  you  told  Mr. 
Robertson  yesterday." 

Richard  had  thought  over  whether  it  would  be  better 
to  soften  his  story,  but  as  it  had  already  been  told  to  the 


'Q 


TH£  JUSTtCfi  ROOM. 


35 


•1 


^} 


•^uirc  he  had  concluded  that  there  would  be  more 
danger  in  contradicting  his  first  version  than  in  sticking 
to  it.  Accordingly  he  repeated  his  story  almost  word 
for  word  as  he  had  told  it  to  Mr.  Robertson. 

"What  have  you  to  say  to  this,  James  Walsham?" 
the  squire  asked.  "This  is  a  serious  charge,  that  you 
without  any  provocation  assaulted  and  maltreated  my 
nephew." 

"  I  say  it  is  all  a  lie,  §ir,"  Jam'^s  said  fearlessly. 

The  squire  uttered  a  short  exclamation  of  surprise 
and  anger.  He  had  been  at  first  favorably  impressed 
with  the  appearance  of  the  young  prisoner,  though  he 
had  been  surprised  at  seeing  that  he  was  younger  than 
his  nephew,  for  he  had  expected  to  see  a  much  older 
boy. 

"  That  is  not  the  way  to  speak,  sir,"  he  said  sternly, 
while  the  constable  pressed  a  warning  hand  on  James' 
shoulder. 

"  Well,  sir,  it's  not  true,  then,"  the  boy  said;  "  it's  all 
false  from  beginning  to  end,  except  that  I  did  strike 
him  first;  but  I  struck  him,  not  because  he  had  thrown 
a  great  stone  and  broken  my  boat,  but  because  he 
pushed  a  little  girl  who  was  with  me  down  into  the 
water." 

"  She  slipped  down ;  I  never  pushed  her,"  Richard 
broke  in. 

"  Hold  your  tongue,  sir,"  the  squire  said  sternly; 
"  you  have  given  your  evidence.  I  have  now  to  hear 
what  the  accused  has  to  say.     Now  tell  your  story." 

James  now  gave  his  version  of  the  affair. 

When  he  had  ended  Mr.  Linthome  said  gravely, 
"  Have  you  any  witnesses  to  call?  " 

"  Yes,  sir;  there  are  two  fishermen  outside  who  saw 
it." 

"  Bring  them  in,"  the  magistrate  said  to  the  constable. 

Not  a  word  was  spoken  in  the  justice  room  until  the 
constable  returned.  As  James  had  told  his  story  the 
magistrate  had  listened  with  disbelief;  it  had  not  oc- 
curred to  him  that  his  nephew  could  have  told  a  lie| 


M 


3« 


WITH  WOtPE  IM  CANADA. 


and  he  wondered  at  the  calmness  with  which  this  boy 
told  his  story.  Why,  were  it  true,  Richard  was  a  cow- 
ard as  well  as  a  liar,  for  with  his  superior  age  and 
height  he  should  have  been  able  to  thrash  this  boy  in 
a  fair  fight,  yet  James'  face  had  not  a  mark,  while  his 
nephew's  showed  how  severely  he  had  been  punished. 
But  his  eye  fell  upon  Richard  when  James  said  that  he 
had  witnesses;  he  saw  an  unmistakable  look  of  terror 
came  over  his  face,  and  the  bitter  conviction  flashed 
across  him  that  James'  story  was  the  true  one. 

"  There  is  no  occasion  to  give  him  the  book,  Hob- 
son,"  he  said,  as  the  constable  was  about  to  hand  the 
Testament  to  one  of  the  fishermen ;  "  this  is  a  private 
investigation,  not  a  formal  magisterial  sitting,  and  there 
is  no  occasion  at  this  stage  to  take  any  evidence  on 
oath." 

"What  is  your  name,  my  man?" 

"John  Mullens,  your  honor." 

"  Well,  just  tell  me,  Mullens,  what  you  know  about 
this  business." 

"  I  was  a-mending  my  nets,  yer  honor,  along  with 
Simon  Harte,  and  young  Master  Walsham  was  a-sail- 
ing  his  boat  in  a  pool  along  with  the  little  gal  as  lives  at 
his  mother's." 

"  How  far  were  you  from  the  spot  where  he  was?  " 
the  squire  asked. 

"  Two  hundred  yards  or  so,  I  should  say,"  the  fisher- 
man replied;  "we  was  working  behind  a  boat,  but  we 
could  see  over  it  well  enough;  presently  we  saw  Master 
Horton  come  down  and  stand  alongside  the  others.  I 
said  to  Simon,  *  He  is  a  good-looking  young  fellow,  is 
the  squire's  nephew,' "  and  the  fisherman's  eye  twinkled 
with  a  grim  humor  as  he  glanced  at  Richard's  swollen 
face.  "  The  boat  got  stuck  and  Master  Walsham  threw 
something  in  close  to  it  to  get  it  off;  then  I  see  Master 
Horton  stoop  and  pick  up  a  chunk  of  stone  and  chuck 
it  hard,  and  it  hit  the  boat  and  knocked  it  over;  I  see 
the  little  girl  turn  around  and  say  something  to  Master 
iiortoni  and  then  she  put  her  apron  up  to  her  face  and 


1^ 


THfi  JUSTICE  ROO&f. 


sy 


began  to  ciy;  he  gave  her  a  sort  of  shove  and  she  tum- 
bled down  into  the  edge  of  the  pool.  I  says  to  Simon, 
*  What  a  shame ! '  but  afore  the  words  was  out  of  my 
mouth  Master  Walsham  he  hits  him,  and  hits  him  hard 
^too;  then  there  was  a  fight,  but  Master  Horton  he 
hadn't  a  chance  with  James,  who  gave  him  as  sound 
a  licking  as  ever  you  see'd,  and  ending  with  knocking 
him  backward  into  the  pool;  then  he  gets  up  and  shakes 
his  fist  at  James  and  then  goes  off  as  hard  as  he  could. 
That's  all  I  know  about  it." 

"  It  is  a  wicked  lie! "  Richard  burst  out;  "they  have 
made  it  up  between  them.    There  was  nobody  there." 

"  Hold  your  tongue,  sir,  I  tell  you,"  the  squire  said, 
so  sternly  that  Richard,  who  had  risen  from  his  seat, 
shrank  back  ag^in  and  remained  silent;  while  Simon 
Harte  gave  his  evidence,  which  was  almost  identical 
with  that  of  the  other  fisherman. 

"  Have  you  any  other  witnesses? "  the  magistrate 
asked  James. 

"  Only  the  little  girl,  sir;  but  I  did  not  bring  her  up. 
She  is  so  little  I  thought  it  was  better  she  should  not 
come,  but  I  can  send  for  her  if  you  wish  it." 

"  It  is  not  necessary,"  Mr.  Linthome  said.  "  I  have 
heard  quite  sufficient.  The  manner  in  which  you  and 
these  fishermen  have  given  your  evidence  convinces  me 
that  you  are  speaking  the  truth,  and  I  am  sorry  that 
you  should  have  been  placed  in  this  position.  You  will 
understand  that  this  is  not  a  formal  court,  and  there- 
fore that  there  is  no  question  of  discharging  you.  I 
can  only  say  that  having  heard  the  story  of  what  took 
place  at  this  fight  between  you  and  my  nephew,  I  am 
convinced  that  you  did  what  any  other  boy  of  spirit 
would  have  done  under  the  same  circumbLances,  and 
that  the  punishment  which  you  administered  to  him  was 
thoroughly  deserved.    Good-morning! " 

James  Walsham  and  his  witnesses  left  the  room. 
Mr.  Linthome  rose,  and  saying  to  his  nephew,  "  Follow 
me,  sir,"  went  to  his  study.  Without  saying  a  word 
as  to  what  had  passed,  he  took  down  some  books  from 


38 


WITH  WOLF£  IN  CAKAOii, 


the  shelves  and  proceeded  to  examine  Richard  in  them, 
A  few  minutes  sufficed  to  show  that  the  boy  was  almost 
absolutely  ignorant  of  Latin,  while  a  few  questions  in 
geography  and  history  showed  that  he  was  equally 
deficient  in  these  also. 

"  That  will  do,"  the  squire  said.  "  Go  up  to  your 
room,  and  remain  there  until  I  send  for  you." 

An  hour  after  this  a  dog-cart  came  around  to  the 
door.  Mr.  Robertson  took  his  place  in  it  with  his 
trunk,  and  was  driven  away  to  Exeter  never  to  return. 
For  two  days  Richard  remained  a  prisoner  in  his  room. 
His  meals  were  brought  up  to  him,  but  the  servant  who 
came  with  them  answered  no  questions,  telling  him  that 
the  squire's  orders  were  that  he  was  not  to  hold 
any  conversation  with  him.  There  was  indeed  a  deep 
pleasure  among  the  servants  at  the  Hall  at  the  knowl- 
edge that  Richard  Horton  was  in  disgrace.  The  exact 
circumstances  of  the  affair  were  unknown,  for  the  fisher- 
men had  not  been  present  when  Richard  had  told  his 
story,  and  Mrs.  Walsham,  who  was  much  shocked  when 
James  told  her  the  circumstances,  had  impressed  upon 
him  that  it  was  better  to  say  nothing  more  about  it. 
"  You  are  clear  in  the  matter,  Jim,  and  that  is  enough 
for  you.  The  squire  will  no  doubt  punish  his  nephew 
for  the  wicked  lies  he  has  told.  Some  day,  you  know, 
the  boy  will  be  master  here.  Don't  let  us  set  everyone 
against  him  by  telling  this  disgraceful  story." 

So  beyond  the  fact  that  there  had  been  a  fight 
between  James  Walsham  and  the  squire's  nephew,  and 
that  Richard  Horton  had  been  thrashed,  and  that  the 
sqvf>e  himself  had  said  that  it  served  him  right,  Sid- 
mouth  knew  nothing  of  what  had  taken  place  in  the 
justice  room. 

Mr.  Linthome's  first  impulse  had  been  to  send  his 
nephew  at  once  back  to  his  parents,  with  the  message 
that  he  would  have  nothing  more  to  do  with  him;  but, 
though  he  had  the  reputation  of  being  a  stem  man,  the 
squire  was  a  very  kind-hearted  one.  He  was  shocked  to 
find  that  the  boy  was  a  liar,  and  that  to  shield  himself  he 


\ 


THE  JUSTICE   ROOM. 


39 


had  invented  this  falsehood  against  his  opponent;  but 
upon  reflection  he  acknowledged  that  he  himself  had 
been  to  blame  in  the  matter.  He  had  taken  the  boy 
into  his  house,  had  assigned  to  him  the  position  of  his 
heir,  and  had -paid  no  further  attention  to  him. 

Unfortunately  the  man  he  had  selected  as  his  tutor 
had  proved  false  to  the  trust.  The  boy  had  been  per- 
mitted to  run  wild,  his  head  was  turned  with  the  change 
in  his  prospects,  his  faults  had  grown  unchecked.  It 
was  to  be  said  for  him  that  he  had  liot  intended  in  the 
first  place  to  bring  his  opponent  into  disgrace  by  mak- 
ing this  false  accusation  against  him,  for  his  tutor  had 
acknowledged  that  he  had  said  he  did  not  intend  to  tell 
him  or  to  take  any  step  in  the  matter,  and  his  position 
of  accuser  had  been,  to  some  extent,  forced  upon  him 
by  the  necessity  of  his  confirming  the  tale  which  he  had 
told  to  account  for  his  being  thrashed  by  a  boy  smaller 
than  himself. 

Yes,  it  would  be  unfair  upon  the  boy  utterly  to  cast 
him  off  for  this  first  offense;  he  would  give  him  one 
more  trial.  The  result  of  the  squire's  reflection  was 
that  on  the  third  day  of  his  imprisonment  Richard  was 
sent  for  to  the  study.  The  squire  did  not  motion  to 
him  to  sit  down,  and  he  remained  standing  with,  as  the 
squire  said  to  himself,  a  hang-dog  look  upon  his  face. 

"I  have  been  thinking  over  this  matter  quietly, 
Richard,  for  I  did  not  wish  to  come  to  any  hasty  con- 
clusion. My  first  impulse  was  to  pack  you  off  home 
and  have  no  more  to  do  with  you;  but  I  have  thought 
better  of  it.  Mean  and  despicable  as  your  conduct  has 
been,  I  take  some  blame  to  myself  for  not  having  seen 
that  your  tutor  did  his  duty  by  you.  Therefore,  I  have 
resolved  to  give  you  another  chance,  but  not  here.  I 
could  not  bear  to  have  a  boy  who  has  proved  himself 
a  despicable  liar  about  me;  but  I  will  try  and  think 
that  this  was  a  first  offense,  and  that  the  lesson  which 
it  has  taught  you  may  influence  all  your  future  life,  and 
that  you  may  yet  grow  up  an  honorable  man. 

"  But  you  will  remember  that  henceforth  you  are  on 


40 


WITH  WOLFE  IN  CANADA. 


(^ 


trial,  and  that  the  position  in  which  you  will  stand  by 
my  will,  will  depend  solely  and  entirely  on  your  own 
conduct.  If  you  prove-  by  that  that  this  lesson  has  had 
its  effect,  that  you  deeply  repent  of  your  coi*duct,  and 
are  resolved  to  do  your  best  to  be  henceforth  straight, 
honorable,  and  true,  you  will  at  my  death  occupy  the 
position  I  have  intended  for  you;  if  not,  not  one  single 
penny  of  my  money  will  you  get.  I  am  going  to  put 
you  in  a  school  where  you  will  be  looked  strictly  after, 
and  where  you  will  have  every  chance  of  retrieving 
yourself.  I  have  just  written  to  a  friend  of  mine,  a 
post-captain  in  his  Majesl  's  service,  asking  him  to 
receive  you  as  a  midshipman.  I  have  told  him  frankly 
that  you  have  been  somewhat  over-indulged,  and  that 
the  discipline  of  the  sea  life  will  be  of  great  benefit  to 
you,  and  have  requested  him  to  keep  a  tight  hand  over 
you  and  let  me  know  occasionally  how  you  are  going 
on.  I  have  told  him  that  your  position  as  my  heir  will 
to  a  very  large  extent  depend  upon  his  reports,  and 
have  asked  him,  in  the  name  of  our  old  friendship,  to 
be  perfectly  frank  and  open  in  them  with  me.  I  have 
said  '  He  is  my  eldest  nephew,  but  I  have  others  who  will 
take  his  place  if  he  is  unworthy  of  the  position,  and 
although  I  should  be  sorry  if  he  should  be  found 
panting,  I  will  commit  the  interests  of  all  the  tenants 
and  people  on  my  estate  to  no  one  who  is  not  in  every 
respect  an  honorable  gentleman.'  That  will  do,  sir. 
You  need  not  remain  longer  in  your  room,  but  you 
will  not  leave  the  grounds.  My  friend's  ship  is  at  Ports- 
mouth at  present,  and  doubtless  I  shall  receive  a\i 
answer  in  the  course  of  a  few  days.  Until  then  the 
less  we  see  each  other  the  more  pleasant  for  us  both." 

There  were  few  more  miserable  boys  in  England  than 
Richard  Horton  during  the  week  which  elapsed  before 
the  answer  to  the  squire's  letter  was  received.  It  cannot 
be  said  that  in  the  true  sense  of  the  word  he  was  sorry 
for  his  fault.  He  was  furious  with  himself,  not  because 
he  had  lied,  but  because  of  the  consequences  of  the  lie. 

A  thousand  times  he  called  himself  a  fool  for  having 


I. 


tHE  JUSTlCJi  kOOM. 


4t 


imperiled  his  position,  and  risked  being  sent  back  again 
to  the  dingy  house  in  London,  merely  to  excuse  himself 
for  being  thrashed  by  a  boy  smaller  than  himself.  Mad 
with  his  folly,  not  in  having  invented  the  story,  but  in 
having  neglected  to  look  around  to  assure  himself  that 
there  were  no  witnesses  who  would  contradict  it,  he 
wandered  diconsolate  about  the  gardens  and  park,  curs- 
ing what  he  called  his  fortune. 

It  was  an  additional  sting  to  his  humiliation  that  he 
knew  every  servant  in  and  about  the  house  rejoiced  at 
his  discomfiture,  and  he  imagined  that  there  was  a  veiled 
smile  of  satisfaction  at  his  bruised  visage  and  his  notori- 
ous disgrace  with  the  squire  on  the  face  of  every  man 
he  met  outside,  and  of  every  woman  who  passed  him  in 
the  house.  During  the  whole  week  he  did  not  venture 
near  the  stables,  for  there  he  knew  that  he  had  rendered 
himself  specially  obnoxic^us,  and  there  was  nothing  for 
him  to  do  but  to  saunter  listlessly  about  the  garden 
until  the  day  arrived  tliat  the  letter  came  granting  the 
squire's  request,  and  begging  that  he  might  be  sent  off 
at  once,  as  the  vessel  would  probably  put  to  sea  in  a  few 
days. 

"  Now,  Richard,"  the  squire  said  that  evening  to  him 
in  a  kinder  voice  than  he  had  used  on  the  last  occasion, 
"  you  understand  exactly  how  we  stand  toward  each 
other.  That  being  so,  I  do  not  wish  to  maintain  our 
present  uncomfortable  relations.  You  have  had  your 
punishment,  and  unless  I  hear  to  the  contrary  I  shall 
assume  that  the  punishment  has  had  its  effect.  When 
you  return  from  sea  after  your  first  voyage  you  will 
come  home  here  as  if  nothing  had  happened,  and  this 
business  need  never  be  alluded  to  between  us.  If  you 
turn  out  as  I  have  hitherto  believed  you  to  be,  I  shall 
receive  you  as  warmly  as  if  my  opinion  of  you  had  never 
been  shaken. 

"  I  have  requested  Captain  Sinclair  to  let  me  know 
what  is  the  average  allowance  that  the  midshipmen 
receive  from  their -parents,  and  shall  see  that  you  have 
9ks  much  as  your  messmates.    I  have  also  asked  him  to 


4i 


WITH  VfOtft  m  CANADA, 


kindly  allow  one  of  his  officers  to  order  you  a  propef 
outfit  in  all  respects,  and  to  have  the  bill  sent  in  to 
me.  So  now,  my  boy,  you  will  have  a  fresh  and  a  fair 
start,  and  I  trust  that  you  will  turn  out  everything  that 
I  Cc..  wish." 

"  I  will  try,  sir;  I  will  indeed,"  Richard  said  earnestly; 
and  he  spoke  from  his  heart,  for  the  inheritance  was 
very  dear  to  fiim,  and  it  would  be  a  terrible  thing  indeed 
to  forfeit  it. 

For  two  years  after  Richard  Horton's  departure 
things  went  on  quietly  at  Sidmouth.  James  Walsham 
continued  to  make  a  pet  and  a  playmate  of  little  Aggie. 
Her  out-of-door  life  had  made  her  strong  and  sturdy, 
and  she  was  able  to  accompany  him  in  all  his  rambles, 
while  when  he  was  at  work  at  home  preparing  his  fishing; 
lines,  making  boats,  or  otherwise  amusing  himself,  she 
was  content  to  sit  hours  quietly  beside  him  chattering 
incessantly,  and  quite  content  with  an  occasional  brief 
answer  to  her  questions.  When  he  was  studying  she  too 
would  work  at  her  lessons ;  and  however  much  she  might 
be  puzzled  over  these,  she  would  never  disturb  him  by 
asking  him  questions  when  so  engaged. 

She  was  an  intelligent  child,  and  the  hour's  lesson, 
morning  and  afternoon,  soon  grew  into  two.  She  was 
eager  to  learn,  and  rapidly  gained  ground  on  Mrs.  Wal- 
sham's  older  pupils.  During  the  two  years  that  lady 
never  had  cause  to  regret  that  she  had  yielded  to  the 
sergeant's  entreaties.  Aggie  was  no  trouble  in  the 
house,  which  she  brightened  with  her  childish  laughter 
and  merry  talk,  and  her  companionship,  James'  mother 
could  not  but  think,  did  the  boy  much  good.  It  soft- 
ened his  manner,  and  although  he  still  often  went  out 
with  the  fishermen,  he  was  no  longer  thrown  entirely 
for  companionship  upon  the  boys  on  the  beach. 

The  sergeant  came  and  went,  seldom  being  more  than 
two  months  without  paying  a  visit  to  Sidmouth.  The 
child  was  always  delighted  to  see  her  grandfather,  and 
James  took  to  him  greatly,  and  liked  nothing  better  than 
to  stroll  up  with  him  to  a  sheltered  spot  on  the  hillside, 


tut  jCSTtCt  llOOIf. 


43 


o 

ir 
It 


LS 

d 

■e 
n 

5, 

8 

ff 

o 

it 


where  he  would  throw  himself  down  onthe  grass,  while, 
the  sergeant  smoked  his  pipe  and  told  him  stories  of  hiS' 
travels  and  adventures,  and  Aggie  ran  about  looking 
for  wild  flowers,  or  occasionally  sat  down  for  a  while  to 
listen  also.  The  squire  lived  his  usual  lonely  life  up  at 
^the  Hall.  The  absence  of  his  nephew,  whose  ship  had 
sailed  for  a  foreign  station,  was  a  relief  rather  than  other- 
wise to  him.  It  had  from  the  first  been  a  painful  effort 
to  him  to  regard  this  boy  as  his  heir,  and  he  had  only 
done  it  when  heart-sick  from  a  long  and  fruitless  search 
for  one  who  would  have  been  nearer  and  dearer  to  him. 
Nor  had  be  ever  taken  to  the  lad  personally.  The 
squire  felt  that  there  was  not  the  ring  of  true  metal  in 
him.  The  careless  way  in  which  he  spoke  of  his  parents 
showed  a  want  of  heart;  and  although  his  uncle  was 
ignorant  how  much  the  boy  made  himself  disliked  in 
the  household,  he  was  conscious  himself  of  a  certain 
antipathy  for  him,  which  led  him  to  see  as  little  of  him 
as  possible. 

The  two  years  for  which  the  sergeant  had  placed  his 
grandchild  with  Mrs.  Walsham  came  to  an  end.  That 
he  did  not '  intend  to  continue  the  arrangement  she 
judged  from  something  he  said  on  the  occasion  of  his 
last  visit  two  months  before  the  time  was  up,  but  he 
gave  no  hint  as  to  what  he  intended  to  do  with  her. 

In  those  weeks  Mrs.  Walsham  frequently  thought  the 
matter  over.  That  the  sergeant  had  plans  for  the  child 
she  could  hardly  doubt.  The  child  herself  had  told  her 
that  she  knew,  of  no  other  relations  than  her  grand- 
father, and  yet  he  could  hardly  intend  to  take  her  about 
with  him,  after  placing  her  for  two  years  in  a  comfort- 
able home.  She  was  but  seven  years  old  now — ^far  too 
young  to  go  out  into  a  place  as  servant-girl  in  a  farm- 
house. She  doubted  not  that  the  sergeant  had  ex- 
pended the  whole  of  his  savings,  and  she  thought  him 
foolish  in  not  having  kept  her  with  him  for  some  little 
time  longer,  or  if  he  could  not  do  that  he  might  have 
placed  her  with  some  honest  people  who  would  have 
kept  her  for  the  sum  he  had  paid  until  she  was  old 


44 


WITH  WOLFE  IM  Caj^aDA. 


enough  to  take  a  place  as  a  nurse  girl.  And  yet  wnile 
she  argued  thus,  Mrs.  Walsham  felt  that  the  old  show- 
man had  not  acted  without  weighing  the  whole  matter. 
There  must  be  something  in  it  which  she  did  not  under- 
stand. In  fact,  he  had  said  so  when  he  placed  the  child 
with  her.  As  the  time  approached  she  became  more 
worried  at  the  thought,  of  Aggie  leaving  her.  The  little 
one  had  wound  herself  very  closely  round  her  heart. 
The  expense  of  keeping  her  was  small  indeed;  the  cost 
of  her  food  next  to  nothing;  while  the  extra  girl  whom 
Mrs.  Walsham  had  taken  on  when  she  first  came  had 
been  retained  but  a  very  short  time,  James'  constant 
companionship  with  her  rendering  the  keeping  of  a 
nurse  altogether  unnecessary. 

At  last  she  made  up  her  mind  that  she  would  offer  to 
keep  her  on  without  pay.  She  and  James  would  miss 
her  companionship  sorely,  a'  "*  it  could  not*  be  con- 
sidered an  extravagance,  sinv^v  he  money  she  had  re- 
ceived for  her  would  pay  for  the  cost  of  her  keep  for 
years  to  come.  When  Mrs.  Walsham's  mind  was  once 
made  up,  her  only  fear  was  that  these  mysterious  plans 
of  the  sergeant  would  not  allow  him  to  leave  Aggie 
with  her. 

Punctual  to  the  day  Sergeant  Wilks  arrived,  and  after 
a  little  talk  in  the  parlor,  as  usual,  with  James  and  Aggie 
present,  he  formally  requested  the  favor  of  a  conversa- 
tion with  Mrs.  Walsham  alone. 

"Take  Aggie  for  a  walk,  James;  do  not  stay  out 
above  three-quarters  of  an  hour,  as  your  tea  will  be 
ready  for  you  then." 

"  You  must  have  wondered,  ma*am,  a  good  deal,"  the 
sergeant  began  when  they  were  alone,  "  why  I,  who 
get  my  living  by  traveling  the  country  with  a  peep- 
show,  wished  to  place  my  grandchild  in  a  position  above 
her,  and  to  have  her  taught  to  be  a  little  lady.  It  is 
time  now  that  I  should  tell  you.  Aggie  is  my  grand- 
daughter, but  she  is  the  granddaughter,  too,  of  Squire 
Linthome  up  at  the  Hall." 


■1 


! 


THI  JUSTICE  ROOM. 


45 


s 


4 


! 


"Bless  me!"  Mrs.  Walsham  ejaculated,  too  aston- 
ished for  any  further  expression  of  her  feelings. 

"  Yes,  ma'am,  she  is  the  daughter  of  the  squire's  son 
Herbert,  who  married  my  daughter  Cissie." 

"  Dear  me,  dear  me,"  Mrs.  Walsham  said,  "  what  an 
extraordinary  thing!  Of  course  I  remember  Herbert 
Linthome,  a  handsome,  pleasant  young  fellow.  He 
was  on  bad  terms,  as  everyone  heard,  eight  years  ago, 
with  his  father,  because  he  married  somebody  beneath — 
I  mean  somebody  of  whom  the  squire  did  not  approve. 
A  year  afterward  we  heard  that  he  was  dead,  and  there 
was  a  report  that  his  wife  was  dead  too,  but  that  was 
only  a  rumor.  The  squire  went  away  just  at  the  time, 
and  did  not  come  back  for  months  afterward,  and  after 
that  he  was  altogether  changed.  Before,  he  had  been 
one  of  the  most  popular  men  in  this  part  of  the  country, 
but  now  he  shut  himself  up,  gave  up  all  his  acquaint- 
ances, and  never  went  outside  the  park  gafes  except  to 
come  down  to  church.  I  remember  it  gave  us  quite  a 
shock  when  we  saw  him  for  the  first  time — he  seemed 
to  haVe  grown  an  old  man  all  at  once.  Everyone  said 
that  the  death  of  his  son  had  broken  his  heart.  And 
Aggie  is  his  granddaughter!  Well,  well,  you  have  aston- 
ished me.     But  why  did  you  not  tell  me  before?  '* 

"  There  were  a  gocfd  many  reasons,  ma'am.  I 
thought  in  the  first  place  you  might  refuse  me,  if  you 
knew,  for  it  might  do  you  harm.  The  squire  is  a  vin- 
dictive man,  and  he  is  landlord  of  your  house ;  and  if  he 
came  to  know  that  you  had  knowingly  taken  in  his 
granddaughter  there  was  no  saying  how  he  might  have 
viewed  it.  Then,  if  you  had  known  it,  you  might  have 
thought  you  ought  to  keep  her  in,  and  not  let  her  run 
about  the  country  with  your  son;  and  altogether  it 
would  not  have  been  so  comfortable  for  you  or  her.  I 
chose  to  put  her  at  Sidmouth  because  I  wanted  to  come 
here  often  to  hear  how  the  squire  was  going  on ;  for  if 
he  had  been  taken  ill  I  should  have  told  him  sooner 
than  I  intended." 


4< 


WITH   WOLFE  IN  CilNX;>A. 


"But  why  did  you  not  tell  him  before?"  Mrs.  Wal- 
sham  asked. 

"Just  selfishness,  ma'am  I  could  not  bring  myself 
to  run  the  risk  of  having  to  give  her  up.  She  was  mine 
as  much  as  his,  and  was  a  hundred  times  more  to  me 
than  she  could  be  to  him.  I  took  her  a  baby  from  her 
dead  mother's  arms.  I  fed  her  and  nursed  her,  taught 
her  her  first  words  and  her  first  prayer.  Why  should 
I  offer  to  give  her  up  to  him,  who  likely  enough  would 
not  accept  the  oflfei  when  it  was  made  to  him?  But  I 
always  intended  to  make  it  some  day.  It  was  my  duty 
to  give  her  the  chance  at  least;  but  I  kept  on  putting 
oft'  the  day  t'U  that  Saturday  when  she  was  so  nearly 
drowned;  then  I  saw  my  duty  before  me. 

"  I  had  from  the  first  pu|  aside  a  hundred  pounds  to 
give  her  more  of  an  education  than  I  could  do;  but  if 
it  hadn't  been  for  that  fall  into  the  sea  it  might  have 
,been  years  before  I  carried  out  my  plan.  Then  I  saw 
it  could  'lot  go  on  any  longer.  She  was  getting  too  old 
and  too  bold  to  sit  quiet  while  I  was  showing  my^box. 
She  had  had  a  narrow  escape,  and  who  could  say  what 
might  happen  the  next  time  she  got  into  mischief? 
Then  I  bethought  me  that  the  squire  was  growing  old, 
and  that  it  was  better  not  to  put  it  off  too  long,  so, 
ma'am,  I  came  to  you  and  made  up  my  mind  to  put  her 
with  you." 

"  And  you  had  your  way,"  Mrs.  Walsham  said,  smil- 
ing, "  though  it  was  with  some  difficulty." 

"  I  expected  it  would  be  difficult,  ma'am;  but  I  made 
up  my  mind  to  that,  and  had  you  kept  on  refusing  I 
should  as  a  last  chance  have  told  you  whose  child  she 
was." 

"  But  why  me?  "  Mrs.  Walsham  asked.  "  Why  were 
you  so  particularly  anxious  that  she  should  come  to  me 
of  all  people?  " 

The  sergeant  smiled. 

"  It's  difficult  to  tell  you,  ma'am,  but  I  had  a  reason," 

"  But  what  was  it? "  Mrs.  Walsham  persisted. 
■     The  sergeant  hesitated. 


THE  JUSTICE  ROOM. 


m 


"You  may  think  me  an  old  fool,  ma'am,  but  I  will 
tell  you  what  fancy  came  into  my  mind.  Your  son 
saved  Aggie's  life;  he  was  twelve  years  old,  she  was 
five,  seven  years'  difference." 

"  Why,  what  nonsense,  sergeant! "  Mrs.  Walsham 
broke  in  with  a  laugh.  -"  You  don't  mean  to  say  that 
fancy  entered  your  head?  " 

"  It  did,  ma'am,"  Sergeant  Wilks  said  gravely.  "  I 
liked  the  look  of  the  boy  much.  He  was  brave  and 
modest,  and  a  gentleman.  I  spoke  about  him  to  the 
fishermen  that  night,  and  everyone  had  a  good  word 
for  him ;  so  I  said  to  myself,  *  I  can't  reward  him  for 
what  he  has  done  directly,  1>ut  it  may  be  that  I  can  indi- 
rectly.' Aggie  is  only  a  child,  but  she  has  a  loving, 
faithful  little  heart,  and  I  said  to  myself,  *  If  I  throw  her 
wich  this  boy,  who,  she  knows,  has  saved  her  life,  for 
two  years,  she  is  sure  to  have  a  strong  affection  for 
him.' 

"  Many  things  may  happen  afterward;  if  the  squire 
takes  her  they  will  be  separated.  He  may  get  to  care 
for  someone  and  so  may  she,  but  it's  just  giving  him  a 
chance.  Then,  too,  I  thought  a  little  about  myself.  I 
liked  to  fancy  that  even  though  she  would  have  to  go 
from  me  to  the  squire,  my  little  plan  may  yet  turn  out, 
and  it  would  be  I,  not  he,  who  had  arranged  for  the 
future  happiness  of  my  little  darling.  I  shouldn't  have 
told  you  all  this,  ma'am;  but  you  would  have  it." 

"  I  am  glad  you  brought  her  to  me.  Sergeant  Wilks, 
anyhow,"  Mrs.  Walsham  said,  "  for  I  love  her  dearly, 
and  she  has  been  a  great  pleasure  to  me;  but  what  you 
are  talking  about  is  simply  nonsense.  My  son  is  a 
good  boy,  and  will,  I  hope,  grow  up  an  honorable 
gentleman  like  his  father;  but  he  cannot  look  so  high 
as  the  granddaughter  of  Squire  Linthorne." 

"  More  unequal  marriages  have  been  made  than  that, 
ma'am,"  the  sergeant  said  sturdily;  "but  we  won't  say 
more  about  it.  I  have  thought  it  over  and  over  many 
a  hundred  times  as  I  wheeled  my  box  across  the  hills, 
and  it  don't  seem  to  me  impossible.    I  will  agree  thai 


■lip 


48 


WITH    V70LFE  IN  CANADA. 


the  squire  would  never  say  yes;  but  the  squire  may  be 
in  his  grave  years  before  Aggie  comes  to  think  about 
marriage;  besides,  it  is  more  than  likely  that  he  will 
have  nothing  to  say  to  my  pet.  If  his  pride  made  hirii 
cast  his  son  off  rather  than  acknowledge  my  daughter 
as  his,  it  will  keep  him  from  acknowledging  her  daugh- 
ter as  his  grandchild.  I  hope  it  will,  with  all  my  heart; 
I  hope  so." 

"  In  that  case.  Sergeant  Wilks,"  Mrs.  Walsham  said, 
**  let  this  be  her  home  for  the  time.  Before  you  told 
me  your  story  I  had  made  up  my  mind  to  ask  you  to 
let  her  remain  with  me.  You  need  feel  under  no  obli- 
gation, for  the  money  you  have  paid  me  is  amply 
sufHcient  to  pay  for  the  expenses  of  what  she  eats  for 
years.  It  will  be  a  real  pleasure  for  me  to  keep  her,  for 
she  has  become  a  part  of  the  house,  and  we  should  miss 
her  sorely  indeed.  She  is  quick  and  intelligent,  and  I 
will  teach  her  all  I  know,  and  can  train  her  up  to  take 
a  situation  as  a  governess  in  a  gentleman's  family,  or 

perhaps "  and  she  laughed.     "  Your  little  romance 

might  come  true  some  day,  and  she  can  in  that  case 
stop  in  this  home  until  James  makes  her  another." 

"You  are  very  kind,  ma'am,"  the  sergeant  said; 
"truly  kind  indeed;  and  I  humbly  accept  your  offer, 
except  that  so  long  as  I  live  she  shall  be  no  expense  to 
you.  I  earn  more  than  enough  for  my  wants,  and  can 
at  any  rate  do  something  toward  preventing  her  being 
altogether  a  burden  on  your  hands.  And  now,  ma'am, 
how  would  you  recommend  me  to  go  to  work  with  the 
vindictive  old  man  up  at  the  Hall?" 

"  I  shouldn't  have  thought  he  was  vindictive.  That 
is  not  at  all  the  character  he  bears." 

"  No,"  the  sergeant  said,  "  I  hear  him  spoken  well 
of;  but  I  have  seen  in  other  cases  men  who  have  had 
the  name  of  being  pleasant  and  generous  were  yet 
tyrants  and  brutes  in  their  own  family.  I  judge  him  as 
I  found  him — ^a  hard-hearted,  tyrannical,  vindictive 
father.  I  think  I  had  better  not  see  him  myself.  We 
have  never  met.    I  have  never  set  eyes  on  him  save 


f ME  jVStlCA  ft06irf. 


40 


or 


here  in  church;  but  he  regards  me  as  responsible  for 
the  folly  of  his  son.  He  wrote  me  a  violent  letter,  and 
said  I  had  inveigled  the  lad  into  the  marriage;  and 
although  r  might  have  told  him  it  was  false  I  did  not 
answer  his  letter,  for  the  mischief  was  done  then,  and  I 
hoped  he  would  cool  down  in  time.  However,  that  is 
all  past  now ;  but  I  don't  wish  to  see  him.  I  was  think- 
ing of  letting  the  child  go  to  the  Hall  by  herself  and 
drop  in  suddenly  upon  him.  She  is  very  like  her  father, 
and  may  possibly  take  his  heart  by  storm." 

"  Yes,"  Mrs.  Walsham  assented.  "  Now  I  know 
who  she  is,  I  can  see  the  likeness  strongly.  Yes;  I 
should  think  that  would  be  the  best  way.  People  often 
yield  to  a  sudden  impulse  who  will  resist  if  approached 
formally  or  from  a  distance.  But  have  you  any  reason 
to  suppose  that  he  will  not  receive  her?  Did  he  refuse 
at  first  to  undertake  the  charge  of  the  child?  Does  he 
even  know  that  she  is  alive?  It  may  be  that  all  these 
years  he  has  been  anxious  to  have  her  with  him,  and 
that  you  have  been  doing  him  injustice  altogether." 

"  I  never  thought  of  it  in  that  light,"  the  sergeant 
said  after  a  pause.  "  He  never  came  near  his  son  when 
he  lay  dying,  never  wrote  a  line  in  answer  to  his  letters. 
If  a  man  could  not  forgive  his  own  son  when  he  lay 
dying,  how  could  he  care  for  a  grandchild  he  had  never 
seen?" 

"  That  maiy  be  so,  Sergeant  Wilks ;  but  his  son's 
death  certainly  broke  him  down  terribly,  and  it  may  be 
that  he  will  gladly  receive  his  granddaughter.  But 
there  are  the  young  ones  back  again.  I  will  thi«^k 
over  what  you  have  been  telling  me,  and  we  can  dis- 
cuss it  again  to-morrow." 


I 


5« 


WITH  W6Lf e  IN  CANADA. 


CHAPTER  IV. 


THE   squire's    granddaughter. 

The  following  day;  another  council  was  held,  and 
Mrs.  Waisham  told  the  sergeant  that  on  thinking  it 
over  she  had  concluded  that  the  best  way  would  be  to 
take  the  old  butler  at  the  Hall,  who  had  served  the 
family  for  forty-five  years,  into  their  confidence,  and  to 
ask  him  to  arrange  how  best  Aggie  might  be  intro- 
duced to  the  squire. 

"  I  have  been  thinking  over  what  you  said,  ma'am, 
and  it  may  be  that  you  are  right,  and  that  I  have  partly 
misjudged  the  squire.  I  hope  so,  for  Aggie's  sake,  and 
yet  I  cannot  help  feeling  sorry.  I  have  always  felt 
almost  sure  he  would  have  nothing  to  say  to  her,  and 
I  have  clung  to  the  hope  that  I  should  not  lose  my 
little  girl.  I  know,  of  course,  how  much  better  it  will 
be  for  her,  and  have  done  all  I  could  to  make  her  so 
that  she  should  be  fit  for  it  if  he  took  her.  But  it  will 
be  a  wrench,  ma'am;  I  can't  help  feeling  it  will  be  a 
wrench;"  and  the  old  soldier's  voice  quivered  as  he 
spoke. 

"  It  cannot  be  otherv^fise,  sergeant,"  Mrs.  Waisham 
said  kindly.  "  You  have  been  everything  to  each  other, 
and  though  for  her  good  and  happiness  you  are  ready 
to  give  her  up,  it  is  a  heavy  sacrifice  for  you  to  make." 

That  afternoon  the  sergeant  went  for  a  long  walk 
alone  with  Aggie,  and  when  they  returned  Mrs.  Wai- 
sham saw  by  the  flushed  cheeks  and  the  swollen  eyes 
of  the  child  that  she  hdd  been  crying.  James  noticed 
it  also,  and  saw  that  she  seemed  depressed  and  quiet. 
He  supposed  that  her  grandfather  had  been  telling  her 
that  he  was  going  to  take  her  away,  for  hitherto 
nothing  had  been  said  in  her  hearing  as  to  the  approach- 
ing termination  of  the  stay  with  his  mother.  As  they 
came  out  of  church  Mrs.  Waisham  had  waited  for  a 
moment  at  the  door,  and  had  told  the  butler  at  the  Hall 


THE  squire's  granddaughter. 


5i 


that  she  wished  particularly  to  sp'^ak  to  him  that  after- 
noon if  he  could  manage  to  come  down.  They  were 
not  strangers,  for  the  doctor  had  attended  John's  wife 
in  her  last  illness,  and  he  had  sometimes  called  with 
messages  from  the  Hall  when  the  doctor  was  wanted 
there. 

John  Petersham  was  astonished  indeed  when  Mrs. 
Walsham  informed  him  that  the  little  girl  he  had  seen 
in  her  pew  in  church  was  his  master's  granddaughter. 

"You  don't  say  so,  ma'am;  you  don't  say  as  that 
pretty  little  thing  is  Master  Herbert's  child!  But  why 
didn't  you  say  so  afore?  Why,  I  have  caught  myself 
looking  at  her,  and  wondering  how  it  was  that  I  seemed 
to  know  her  face  so  well;  and  now  of  course  I  sees  it; 
she  is  the  picture  of  Master  Herbert  when  he  was  little." 

"  I  couldn't  say  so  before,  John,  because  I  only  knew 
it  myself  last  night.  Her  grandfather — that  is,  her 
other  grandfather,  you  know — ^placed  her  with  me  to 
educate,  and,  as  he  said,  to  make  a  little  lady  of,  two 
years  ago;  but  it  was  only  last  night  he  toM  me." 

."  Only  to  think  of  it!  "  the  butler  ejaculated.    "  What 
will  the  squire  say?  "  • 

"Yes,  that  is  the  point,  John:  what  will  the  squire 
say?  Her  grandfather  thinks  he  will  have  nothing  to 
say  to  her." 

"  Nothing  to  say  to  her,  ma'am!  why,  he  will  be  off 
his  head  with  joy.  Didn't  he  search  for  her,  and  adver- 
tise for  her,  and  do  all  he  could  to  find  her  for  months? 
It  wasn't  till  he  tried  for  over  a  year  that  he  gave  it  up 
and  sent  for  Richard  Horton  to  come  to  him." 

"  Her  grandfather  can  only  judge  by  what  he  knows, 
John.  He  tells  me  that  the  son  wrote  to  his  father  over 
and  over  again  on  his  death-bed,  and  that  he  never 
came  near  him  or  took  any  notice  of  the  letters." 

"That's  true  enough,  ma'am,"  the  butler  said  sadly; 
"and  it  is  what  has  pretty  nigh  broken  the  squire's 
heart,  ^e  was  obstinate  like  at  first,  and  he  took  me 
with  him  when  he  traveled  about  across  the  sea  among 
the  foreigners^  and  when  he  was  at  a  place  they  called 


5* 


WITH   WOLFE  IN  CANADA. 


Athens  he  got  a  fever  and  he  was  down  for  weeks.  We 
came  home  by  sea,  and  the  winds  was  foul  and  we  made 
a  long  voyage  of  it,  and  when  we  got  home  there  was 
letters  that  had  been  lying  months  and  months  for  us, 
and  among  them  was  those  letters  of  Master  Herbert's. 
The  squire  wasn't  an  hour  in  the  house  afore  the  car- 
riage was  round  to  the  door,  and  we  posted  as  hard 
as  horses  could  take  us  right  across  England  to  Broad- 
stairs,  never  stopping  a  minute  except  to  change  horses, 
and  when  we  got  there  it  was  a  month  too  late,  and 
there  was  nothing  to  do  but  to  go  to  the  churchyard 
and  to  see  the  stone  under  which  Master  Herbert  and 
his  young  wife  was  laid. 

*'  The  house  where  they  had  died  was  shut  up. 
There  had  been  a  sale,  and  the  man  who  was  the  father 
of  Master  Herbert's  wife  was  gone,  and  we  learned 
there  had  been  a  baby  born,  and  that  had  gone  too. 
The  squire  was  like  a  madman,  blaming  himself  for  his 
son's  death,  and  a-raving  to  think  what  must^Master 
Herbert  have  thought  of  him  when  he  never  answered 
his  letters.  I  had  a  terrible  time  with  him,  and  then  he 
sA  to  work  to  find  the  child;  but,  as  I  told  you,  we 
never  did  find  it,  or  hear  a  word  of  it  from  that  time 
to  this,  and  the  squire  has  never  held  up  his  head.  He 
will  be  pretty  well  out  of  his  mind  with  joy." 

"  I  am  very  glad  to  hear  what  you  say,  John,"  Mrs. 
Walsham  said.  "  I  could  hardly  fancy  the  squire,  who 
always  has  borne  such  a  name  for  kindness,  being  so 
hard  that  he  would  not  listen  to  his  dying  son's 
entreaties." 

"  No,  ma'am.  The  squire  was  hard  for  a  bit.  Master 
Herbert's  marriage  was  a  sad  disappointment  to  him. 
He  had  made  up  his  mind  he  was  going  to  do  so  well 
and  to  cut  such  a  figure  in  the  world;  but  he  would 
have  come  round.  Lord  bless  you,  he  only  meant  to 
hold  out  for  a  bit.  When  he  was  ill  at  Athens  he  was 
talking  all  the  time  about  forgiving  his  son,  and  J  could 
see  how  hard  it  had  been  to  him  to  keep  separated 

IrQm  hmr   Qn  t^^  voyage  home  he  64geted  ever  §9 


f 


THfi  squire's  GRAJ^DOAtJGIiTER. 


53 


e 

e 

.s 
>» 


ai!  the  delay,  and  I  knew  that  the  first  thing  he  did 
when  he  got  back  would  be  to  write  to  Master  Herbert 
and  tell  him  to  bring  his  wife  down  to  the  Hall.  There's 
not  a  hard  corner  in  the  squire's  heart.  I  thank  the 
good  God  for  the  news  you  have  told  me,  ma'am;  it's  the 
best  I  ever  heard  in  all  my  life." 

Mrs.  Walsham  now  told  him  how  the  child  had  been 
brought  up,  and  then  the  sergeant  himself,  who  was 
waiting  in  the  next  room,  was  brought  in;  and  to  him 
John  Petersham  related  the  story  of  the  squire's  illness, 
the  reason  of  the  letters  not  reaching  him  -for  months 
after  they  had  been  written,  and  his  intense  sorrow  and 
self-reproach  at  having  arrived  too  late,  and  told  him  of 
the  efforts  that  had  been  made  to  find  the  child.  The 
sergeant  listened  in  grave  silence. 

"  I  am  glad  it  is  so,"  he  said,  after  a  pause.  "  I  have 
misjudged  the  squire,  and  I  am  glad  of  it.  It  will  be 
a  blow  to  me  to  lose  the  child;  I  do  not  pretend  that 
it  won't;  but  it  is  for. her  good,  and  I  njust  be  content. 
He  can  hardly  object  to  my  seeing  her  sometimes,  and 
if  I  know  that  she  is  well  and  happy  that  is  all  I  care 
for;  and  now  the  sooner  it's  over  the  better.  Can  she 
come  up  this^evening?  " 

"  Surely  she  can,"  John  Petersham  said.  "  The  squire 
dines  at  five.  If  you  will  bring  her  up  at  six  I  will  take 
her  in  to  him." 

And  so  it  was  arranged,  and  in  his  walk  with  Aggie 
afterward  the  sergeant  told  her  the  history  of  her 
parents,  and  that  Squire  Linthome  was  her  other 
grandfather,  and  that  she  was  to  go  up  and  see  him  that 
evening. 

Aggie  had  uttered  her  protest  against  fate.  She  did 
not  wish  to  leave  her  grandpa  who  had  been  so  ^good 
to  her,  and  Mrs.  Walsham,  and  James.  The  description 
of  the  big  house  and  its  grandeurs,  and  the  pleasures  of 
a  pony  for  herself,  offered  no  enticement  to  her,  and 
weeping  she  flung  her  arms  around  her  grandfather's 
neck  and  implored  him  not  to  give  her  up. 

"  I  must,  my  dear;  it  is  my  duty.    I  wish  to  God  that 


S4 


if/irU  ivoLFl:  in  caKADA. 


it  were  not.  Yoti  know  how  I  love  you,  Ageie,  and 
how  hard  it  is  for  me  to  part  with  you ;  but  it  is  for  your 
good,  my  darling.  You  mayn't  see  it  now,  but  when 
you  get  older  you  will  know  it.  It  will  not  be  so  hard 
now  on  me,  dear,  nor  on  you,  as  it  would  have  been 
had  I  given  you  up  two  years  ago;  but  we  have  learned 
to  do  a  little  without  each  other." 

*'  But  you  will  come  and  see  me  just  as  you  have 
here,  won't  you?"  Aggie  said,  still  weeping. 

"  I  hope  so,  my  dear.  You  see,  the  squire  is  your 
father's  father,  while  I  am  only  your  mother's  father, 
and  somehow  the  law  makes  him  nearer  to  you  than 
I  am,  and  he  will  have  the  right  to  say  what  you  must 
do." 

*'  I  won't  stay  with  him,  I  won't,"  Aggie  said  passion- 
ately, "  if  he  won't  let  you  come." 

"  You  must  not  say  that,  dear,"  the  sergeant  said. 
"  We  must  all  do  our  duty  even  when  that  duty  is  hard 
to  do,  and  your  duty  will  be  to  oljey  the  squire's  orders 
and  to  do  as  he  tells  you.  I  have  no  doubt  he  will 
be  very  kind,  and  that  you  will  be  very  happy  with 
him,  and  I  hope  he  will  let  you  see  me  sometimes." 

It  was  a  long  time  before  the  child  was  at  all  recon- 
ciled. When  her  sobs  began  to  cease  her  grandfather 
told  her  what  she  was  to  do  when  she  saw  the  squire. 

"  You  will  remember,  my  dear,  that  I  have  been  more 
fortunate  than  he  has.  I  have  had  you  all  these  years, 
and  he  has  had  no  one  to  love  or  care  for  him.  You 
must  remember  that  he  was  not  to  blame  because  he 
objected  to  his  son  marrying  my  daughter.  The>  were 
not  in  the  same  position  of  life,  and  it  was  only  natural 
that  he  should  not  like  it  at  first,  and,  as  I  told  you, 
he  was  coming  home  to  make  them  both  happy  when 
he  found  it  was  too  late.  You  must  think,  dear,  that 
while  I  have  been  happy  all  these  years  with  you,  he 
has  been  sorrowing  and  grieving,  and  you  must  try  and 
love  him  and  make  up  to  him  for  what  he  has  suffered. 
I  know  you  will  not  forget  your  old  friends;  you  will 
love  me  whether  you  see  me  often  or  not;  amd  Mn. 


TttB  SQUIIte'S  GftAHDDAUGHTES. 


i$ 


Walsham,  who  has  been  very  kind  to  ^ou;  and  James, 
you  know,  who  saved  your  life." 

"  I  shall  never  forget  anyone,  grampa.  I  shall  always 
love  you  better  than  anyone,"  the  child  exclaimed, 
throwing  her  arms  around  his  neck  with  a  fresh  burst 
of  tears. 

"  There,  there,  my  pet,"  the  sergeant  said  soothingly; 
**  you  must  not  cry  any  more.  I  want  you  to  look 
your  best  this  evening,  you  know,  and  to  do  credit  to 
us  all.  And  now  I  think  we  have  settled  everything, 
so  we  will  be  going  back  to  tea." 

That  evening  the  squire  was  sitting  by  himself  in  the 
greac  dining  room,  occasionally  sipping  the  glass  of 
port  which  John  Petersham  had  poured  out  before  he 
left  the  room.  The  curtains  were  drawn  and  the  candles 
lighted,  for  it  was  late  in  September  and  the  evenings 
were  closing  in  fast,  and  the  squire  was  puzzling  over 
John  Petersham's  behavior  at  dinner. 

Although  the  squire  was  not  apt  to  observe  closely 
what  was  passing  around  him,  he  had  been  struck  with 
the  old  butler's  demeanor.  That  something  was  wrong 
with  him  was  clear.  Usually  he  was  the  most  quiet  and 
methodical  of  servants,  but  he  had  blundered  several 
times  in  the  service,  he  had  handed  his  master  dishes 
when  his  plate  was  already  supplied,  he  had  spilled  the 
wine  in  pouring  it  out,  he  had  started  nervously  when 
spoken  to.  Mr.  Linthorne  even  thought  that  he  had 
seen  tears  in  his  eyes;  altogether  he  was  strangely  unlike 
himself.  Mr.  Linthorne  had  asked  him  if  anything 
was  the  matter,  but  John  had  with  almost  unnecessary 
earnestness  declared  there  was  nothing.  Altogether 
the  squire  was  puzzled.  With  any  other  servant  he 
would  have  thought  he  had  been  drinking;  but  "uch 
a  supposition  in  John's  case  was  altogether  out  of  the 
question. 

He  could  have  had  no  bad  news  so  far  as  the  squire 
knew,  for  the  only  children  he  had  had  died  young,  and 
he  had  no  near  relatives  or  connections.  It  was  ridicu- 
lous to  suppose  that  John,  at  his  age,  had  fallen  in  love^ 


) 


S6 


WlTri   WOLFE  IN  CANADA. 


Altogether  the,  squire  failed  to  suggest  to  himself  any 
explanation  of  his  old  butlers  conduct,  and  had  just 
concluded  philosophically  by  the  reflection  that  he  sup- 
posed he  should  know  what  it  was  sooner  or  later,  when 
the  door  of  the  room  quietly  opened. 

The  squire  did  not  look  up.  It  closed  again  as 
quietly,  and  then  he  glanced  toward  it.  He  could 
hai'dly  believe  his  eyes.  A  child  was  standing  there 
— a  girl  with  soft,  smooth  hair  and  large  eyes  and  a 
sensitive  mouth,  with  an  expression  fearless  but  appeal- 
ing. Her  hands  were  clasped  before  her,  and  she  was 
standing  in  doubt  whether  to  advance.  There  was 
something  so  strange  in  this  apparition  in  the  lonely 
room  that  the  squire  did  not  speak  for  a  moment.  It 
flashed  across  him  vaguely  that  there  was  something 
familiar  to  him  in  the  face  and  expression,  something 
which  sent  a  thrill  through  him;  and  at  the  same  mstant, 
without  knowing  why,  he  felt  that  there  was  a  con- 
nection between  the  appearance  of  the  child  and  the 
matter  he  had  just  been  thinking  of — ^John  Petersham's 
strange  conduct.  He  was  stili  looking  at  her  when  she 
advanced  quietly  toward  him. 

"  Grandpapa,"  she  said,  "  I  am  Aggie  Linthorne.'* 
A  low  cry  of  astonishment  broke  from  the  squire. 
He  pushed  his  chair  back. 
"  Can  it  be  true,"  he  muttered,  "  or  am  I  dreaming?  " 
"  Yes,  grandpapa,"  the  child  said,  close  beside  him 
now,  "  I  am  Aggie  Linthorne,  and  I  have  come  to  see 
you.    If  you  don't  think  it's  me,  grampa  said  I  was  to 
give  you  this  and  then  you  would  know  ";  and  she  held 
out  a  miniature  on  ivory  of  a  boy  some  fourteen  years 
old,  and  a  watch  and  chain. 

"  I  do  not  need  them,"  the  squire  said  in  low  tones, 
"  I  see  it  in  your  face.  You  are  Herbert's  child,  whom 
I  looked  for  so  long.  Oh!  my  child!  my  child!  have 
you  come  at  last?"  and  he  drew  her  toward  him  and 
kissed  her  passionately,  while  the  tears  streamed  down 
his  cheeks. 


THE   SQUIRE  S  GRANDDAUGHTER. 


57 


"  I  couldn't  come  before,  you  know,"  the  child  said, 
"  because  I  didn't  know  about  you,  and  grampa,  that's 
my  other  grandpapa,"  she  nodded  confidentially,  "  did 
not  know  you  wanted  me;  but  now  he  knows  he  sent 
me  to  you.  He  told  me  I  was  to  come  because  you 
were  lonely;  but  you  can't  be  more  lonely  than  he  is," 
she  said,  with  a  quiver  in  her  voice.  "  Oh!  he  will  be 
lonely  now!" 

"  But  where  do  you  come  from,  my  dear,  and  how 
did  you  get  here,  and  what  have  you  been  doing  all 
these  years?" 

"  Grampa  brought  me  here,"  the  child  said.  "  I  call 
him  grampa,  you  know,  because  I  did  when  I  was  little, 
and  I  have  always  kept  to  it;  but  I  know,  of  course, 
it  ought  to  be  grandpapa.  He  brought  me  here,  and 
John — at  least  he  called  him  John — brought  me  in. 
And  I  have  been  living  for  two  years  with  Mrs.  Wal- 
sham  down  in  the  town,  and  I  used  to  see  you  in  church, 
but  I  did  not  know  that  you  were  my  grandpapa." 

The  squire,  who  was  holding  her  close  to  him  while 
she  spoke,  got  up  and  rang  the  bell,  and  John  opened 
the  door  with  a  quickness  that  showed  that  he  had  been 
waiting  close  to  it,  anxiously  waiting  a  summons. 

"  John  Petersham,"  the  squire  said,  "  give  me  your 
hand;  this  is  the  happiest  day  of  my  life! " 

The  two  men  wrung  each  other's  hands.  They  had 
been  friends  ever  since  John  Petersham,  who  was  twelve 
years  the  senior  of  the  two,  first  came  to  the  house,  a 
young  fellow  of  eighteen,  to  assist  his  father,  who  had 
held  the  same  post  before  him. 

"  God  be  thanked,  squire  I  "  he  said  huskily. 

"  God  be  thanked,  indeed,  John !  "  the  squire  rejoined 
reverently.  "  So  this  was  the  reason,  old  friend,  why 
your  hand  shook  as  you  poured  out  my  wine.  How 
could  you  keep  the  secret  from  me?  " 

"  I  did  not  know  how  to  begin  to  tell  you,  but  I  was 
pretty  nigh  letting  it  out,  and  only  the  thought  that  it 
was  better  the  little  lad^  should  t?ll  ^ou  herself,  af  W9 


1} 


5» 


WITH   WOLFE   IN  CANADA. 


had  agreed,  kept  it  in.  Only  to  think,  squire,  after  all 
these  years!  But  I  never  quite  gave  her  up.  I  always 
thought  somehow  as  she  would  come  just  like  this." 

"  Did  you,  John?  I  gave  up  hope  years  ago.  How 
did  it  come  about,  John?  " 

"  Mrs.  Walsham  told  me  as  I  d^me  cut  of  church 
to-day  as  she  wanted  to  speak  to  me,  so  I  went  down, 

and  she  told  me  all  about  it,  and  then  I  saw  him " 

John  hesitated  at  the  name,  for  he  knew  that  perhaps  the 
only  man  in  the  world  against  whom  his  master  cher- 
ished a  bitter  resentment  was  the  father  of  his  son's  wife. 
*'  It  seems  he  never  saw  your  advertisements,  never 
knew  as  you  wanted  to  hear  anything  of  the  child,  so 
he  took  her  away  and  kept  her.  He  has  been  here  off 
and  on  all  these  years.  I  heard  tell  of  him  often  and 
often -when  I  had  been  down  into  Sidmouth,  but  never 
dreamt  as  it  was  him.  He  went  about  the  country  with 
a  box  on  wheels  with  glasses — ^a  peep-show  as  they 
calls  it." 

The  squire  winced. 

"  He  is  well  spoken  of,  squire,"  John  said,  "  and  I  am 
bound  to  say  he  doesn't  seem  the  sort  of  man  we  took 
him  for  at  all,  not  by  no  means.  He  did  not  know  you 
wanted  to  have  her,  but  he  thought  it  his  duty  to  give 
her  the  chance,  and  so  he  put  her  with  Mrs.  Walsham, 
and  never  told  her  till  yesterday  who  she  was.  Mrs. 
Walsham  was  quite  grieved  at  parting  with  her,  for  she 
says  she  is  wonderfully  quick  at  her  lessons,  and  has 
been  like  a  daughter  with  her  for  the  last  two  years." 

The  child  had  sat  quietly  down  in  a  chair  and  was 
looking  into  the  fire  while  the  two  men  were  speaking. 
She  had  done  what  she  was  told  to  do,  and  was  waiting 
quietly  for  what  was  to  come  next.  Her  quick  ear, 
however,  caught  in  the  tones  of  John  Petersham  an 
apolegetic  tone  when  speaking  of  her  grandfather,  and 
she  was  moved  to  instant  anger. 

"Why  do  you  speak  like  that  of  my  grampa?"  she 
said,  rising  to  her  feet  and  standing  indignantly  before 
him.    ''  He  i$  the  best  man  in  the  world,  and  the  kindest 


THE  SQUtRS'8  GRANDDAUGHTER. 


5^ 


and  the  nicest;  and  if  you  don't  like  him  I  can  go  away 
to  him  again.  I  don't  want  to  stay  here,  not  one  minute. 
You  may  be  my  grandpapa,"  she  went  on,  turning  to 
the  squire,  "and  you  may  be  lonely,  but  he  is  lonely, 
too,  and  you  have  got  a  great  house  and  all  sorts  of 
nice  things,  and  you  can  do  better  without  me  than  he 
can,  for  he  has  got  nothing  to  love  but  me,  poor 
grampa!"  and  her  eyes  filled  with  sudden  tears  as  she 
thought  of  him  tramping  on  his  lonely  walks  over  the 
hills. 

"  We  do  not  mean  to  speak  unkindly  of  your  grand- 
father, my  dear,"  the  squire  said  gently.  "  I  have  never 
seen  him,  you  know,  and  John  has  never  seen  him  but 
once.  I  have  thought  all  these  years  bitterly  of  him, 
but  perhaps  I  have  been  mistaken.  He  has  ever  been 
kind  and  good  to  you,  and,  above  al),  fie  hac  g-ivon  yot* 
back  to  me,  and  Ifiat  will  make  me  think  differently  of 
him  in  future.  We  all  make  mistakes,  you  know,  and 
I  have  made  terribl*  mistakes,  and  have  been  terribly 
punished  for  them.  I  dare  say  I  have  made  a  mistake 
here;  but  whether  or  no,  you  shall  never  hear  a  word 
from  me  against  the  man  who  has  been  wSO  kind  to  you." 

"And  you  will  let  me  see  him  sometimes,  grand- 
papa? "  the  child  said,  taking  his  hand  pleadingly.  "  He 
said  i^  you  said  no  I  must  do  as  you  told  me,  because 
somehow  you  are  nearer  to  me  than  he  is,  though  I 
don't  know  how  that  can  be;  but  you  won't  say  that, 
will  you?  for,  oh!  I  know  he  is  so  lonely  without  me, 
and  I  should  never  be  happy  thinking  of  him  all  alone, 
not  if  you  were  to  be  ever  so  kind  to  me  and  to»  give 
me  all  sorts  of  grand  things." 

"  No,  my  dear,  I  certainly  shall  not  say  so.  You 
shall  see  him  as  often  as  you  like." 

"Oh,  thank  you,  grandpapa!"  she  exclaimed  joy- 
fully, and  she  held  up  her  face  to  kiss  him. 

The  squire  lifted  her  in  his  arms  and  held  her  closelyj 
ito  him. 

*  John,"  he  said,  "  you  must  tell  Mrs.  Morcombe  to 
fct  a  roo-m  ready  for  my  granddaughter  at  oncC;  and 


6o 


WITH   WOLFE   IN   CANADA. 


you  had  better  bring  the  tea  in  here,  and  then  we  will 
think  of  other  things.  I  feel  quite  bewildered  at 
present." 

When  John  returned  with  the  tea  Aggie  was  sitting 
on  the  squire's  knee.  She  was  perfectly  at  home  now, 
and  had  been  chattering  to  him  of  her  life  with  her 
grandfather,  and  had  just  related  the  incident  of  her 
narrow  escape  from  drowning. 

"  Do  you  hear  that,  John?  "  the  squire  said.  "  She 
was  nearly  drowned  here,  within  sight  of  our  home, 
and  I  might  never  have  known  anything  about  it.  It 
seems  that  lad  of  Dr.  Walsham's  saved  her  life.  He 
is  a  fine  lad.  He  was  her  champion,  you  know,  in  that 
aifair  with  my  nephew.  How  strange  that  the  two  boys 
should  have  quarreled  over  my  granddaughter!  " 

^'  Y  es,  squire,  ana  young  Walsham  came  well  out  of 
it ! "  John  said  heartily ;  for  to  him  only  had  the  squire 
mentioned  the  circumstances  of  the  case,  and  he  chuckled 
now  to  himself  as  he  thought  that  Richard  Horton  had 
made  an  even  greater  mistake  in  that  matter  than  he 
thought  of,  for  John  detested  the  boy  with  all  his  heart, 
and  had  only  abstained  from  reporting  his  conduct  to 
the  squire  from  fear  of  giving  his  master  pain. 

The  squire's  brow  clouded  a  little  at  the  allusion. 

"  It  will  make  a  difference  to  him,  John,"  he  said, 
"  for  of  course  now  my  granddaughter  will  take  his 
place." 

"And  a  good  thing,  too!"  John  said  heartily.  "I 
have  never  said  a  word  before,  squire,  because,  as  you 
had  chosen  him  as  your  heir,  there  was  no  use  in  setting 
you  against  him,  but  a  more  hatefuller  lad  than  Richard 
Horton  I  never  corned  across,  and  so  said  everyone 
here.  You  did  not  see  much  of  him,  squire,  and  natural 
thought  well  of  him,  for  he  was  a  good-looking  boy, 
and  could  speak  fair  enough  when  he  liked.  I  thought 
well  of  him  myself  when  he  first  came,  but  I  larned 
better  afterw^ard.'* 

"  There  are  many  excuses  to  be  made  for  him,  John,*' 
the  squire  said,  "and  I  have  had  good  reports  of  him 


B»£ 


mmmyggSSm: 


THE  SQUIRE  S  GRANDDAUGHtES. 


6l 


out  oi 
squire 
uckled 
Dii  had 
lan  he 
heart, 
lluct  to 


said, 
,ke  his 


las  you 

1  setting 
Lichard 
[eryone 
liatural 
[g  boy, 
^lought 
larned 


ijohn," 
of  him 


since.  Of  course  I  shall  see  that,  although*  he  can  no 
longer  be  regarded  as  my  heir  here,  he  shall  be  well 
provided  for.  But  there  will  be  plenty  of  time  to  think 
of  this." 

"  Mr.  Wilks  asked  me  to  say,  sir,"  the  butler  said  as 
he  prepared  to  leave  them,  "  that  he  shall  be  staying 
in  Sidmouth  to-morrow,  and  that  if  you  wish  to  see 
him  he  will  come  up  here." 

"  Certainly  I  wish  to  see  him,"  the  squire  replied. 
"  I  have  many  things  to  ask  him.  Let  the  boy  go  down 
the  first  thing  in  the  morning,  or — no,  if  you  don't 
mind,  John,  would  you  go  down  yourself  to-night?  He 
will  naturally  be  anxious  to  know  how  his  grandchild 
is  getting  on.  Tell  him  with  what  joy  I  received  her, 
and  take  any  message  she  may  give  you.  Is  there 
anything  you  would  like  to  say  to  your  grandfather, 
child?" 

"  Oh,  yes ;  please  tell  him  that  I  think  I  shall  like  it, 
and  that  he  is  to  come  and  see  me  when  he  likes,  and 
that  of  course  he  is  to  see  me  when  he  comes  in  the 
mgrning,  and  then  I  can  tell  him  all  about  it." 

"And  say  I  shall  be  glad  to  see  him  the  first  thing 
after  breakfast,"  the  squire  added. 

The  he  isekeeper  soon  entered,  and  Aggie,  very 
sleepy  after  the  excitements  of  the  day,  was  taken  off 
to  bed.  Her  sleepiness,  however,  disappeared  in  her 
wonder  at  the  size  of  the  house  and  at  the  vastness  of 
her  bedroom. 

"  Why,  you  have  got  a  fire !  "  she  exclaimed  in  aston- 
ishment.    "  I  never  saw  a  fire  in  a  bedroom  before." 

"  I  didn't  light  it  for  the  cold,  miss,"  the  housekeeper 
said;  "  but  because  it  is  a  long  time  since  the  room  was 
slept  in  before,  and  because  I  thought  it  would  be 
cheerful  for  you.  I  shall  sleep  in  the  next  room  till 
things  are  settled,  so  that  if  you  want  anything  you  will 
only  have  to  run  in." 

"  Thank  you,"  Aggie  said  gratefully.  "  It  does  all 
seem  so  big;  but  I  am  sure  not  to  want  anything; 
^thank  you." 


62 


WITH  WOLFfe  in  CA^AttA, 


I- 


"  Here  is  your  box,  miss.  Would  you  like  me  fo 
help  undress  you?" 

"  Oh,  no!  "  Aggie  laughed.  "  Why,  of  course  I  c?n 
undress  myself;"  and  she  laughed  at  the  idea  of  assist- 
ance being  required  in  such  a  matter. 

"Then,  good-night!"  the  housekeept  said.  "I 
shall  leave  the  door  ajar  between  the  two  rooms  when 
I  come  to  bed." 

The  next  morning,  soon  after  breakfast,  Sergeant 
Wilks  was  ushered  into  the  study,  where  the  squire  was 
expecting  him.  The  two  men  had  had  hard  thoughts 
of  each  other  for  many  years.  The  squire  regarded  the 
sergeant  as  a  man  who  had  inveigled  his  son  into  marry- 
ing his  daughter,  while  the  sergeant  regarded  the  squire 
as  a  heartless  and  unnatural  father  who  had  left  his  son 
to  die  alone  among  strangers.  The  conversation  with 
John  Petersham  had  taught  the  sergeant  that  he  had 
wronged  the  squire  by  his  estimate  of  him,  and  that 
he  was  to  be  pitied  rather  than  blamed  in  the  matter. 
The  squire,  on  his  part,  was  grateful  to  the  sergejint 
for  the  care  he  had  bestowed  upon  the  child  and  for 
restoring  her  to  him,  and  was  inclined,  indeed,  at  the 
moment  to  a  universal  good-will  to  all  men.  The  ser- 
geant was  pale,  but  self-possessed  and  quiet;  while  the 
squire,  moved  by  the  events  of  the  night  before  out  of 
the  silent  reserve  in  which  he  had  for  years  enveloped 
himself,  was  agitated  and  nervous.  He  was  the  first  to 
speak. 

"  Mr.  Wilks,"  he  said,  "  I  have  to  give  you  my  heart- 
felt thanks  for  having  restored  my  granddaughter  to 
me — the  more  so  as  I  know,  from  what  she  has  said, 
how  great  a  sacrifice  you  must  be  making.  John  has 
been  telling  me  of  his  conversation  with  you,  and  you 
have  learned  from  him  that  I  was  not  so  wholly  heart- 
less and  unnatural  a  father  as  you  must  have  thought 
me,  deeply  as  I  blame  myself,  and  shall  always  blame 
myself,  in  the  matter." 

"  Yes,"  the  sergeant  said ;  "  I  have  learned  that  I 
have  misread  you.    Had  it  not  been  so  I  should  have 


t«E  SOUIRe's  dftANDDAUGHTEtt. 


63 


to 

?n 

st- 

"I 

tien 

;ant 
was 
ghts 
L  the 
irry- 

5  son 
with 
J  had 
,  that 
atter. 
geant 
d  ior 
t  the 
ser- 
le  the 
)Ut  oi 
tloped 
Irst  to 

leart- 
ter  to 
said, 
kn  has 
Id  you 
Iheart- 
lought 
[blame 

that  I 
have 


brought  the  child  to  you  long  ago— should  never  have 
taken  her  away,  indeed.  Perhaps  we  have  both  mis- 
judged each  other." 

"  I  fear  that  we  have,"  the  squire  said,  remembering 
the  letters  he  wrote  to  his  son  in  his  anger,  denouncing 
the  sergeant  in  violent  language. 

"  It  does  not  matter  now,"  the  sergeant  went  on 
quietly ;  "  but  as  I  do  not  wish  Aggie  ever  to  come  to 
think  ill  of  me  in  the  future  it  is  better  to  set  it  right. 
When  I  left  the  army  I  had  saved  enough  money  to 
furnish  a  house,  and  I  took  one  at  Southampton  and 
set  up  taking  lodgers  there.  I  had  my  pension,  and 
lived  well  until  my  wife  died — a,  year  before  your  son 
came  down  from  London  with  another  gentleman  and 
took  my  rooms.  My  daughter  was  seventeen  when 
her  mother  died,  and  she  look  to  managing  the  house. 
I  was  careful  of  her,  and  gave  her  orders  that  on  no 
account  was  she  ever  to  go  into  the  lodgers'  rooms.  I 
waited  on  them  myself.  How  your  son  first  saw  her 
and  got  to  speak  to  her,  I  don't  know;  but  I  am  not 
surprised  that  when  he  did  he  loved  her,  for  there  was 
no  prettier  or  sweeter  girl  in  Hampshire.  They  took 
the  rooms  first  only  for  a  fortnight;  then  the  other 
gentleman  went  away  and  your  son  stayed  on. 

"  One  day — it  came  upon  me  like  a  thunderbolt — 
your  son  told  me  he  wanted  to  marry  my  Agnes.  I 
was  angry  at  first.  Angry  because  it  had  been  done 
behind  my  back,  and  because  I  had  been  deceived.  I 
said  as  much;  but  your  son  assured  me  that  he  had 
never  spoken  to  her  in  the  house,  but  had  met  her 
when  she  went  out  for  her  walks.  Still,  it  was  w**ong, 
and  I  told  him  so,  and  I  told  her  so,  though  in  my 
heart  I  did  not  altogether  blame  them,  for  young  people 
will  be  young  people,  and  as  he  had  acted  honorably 
in  coming  to  me  at  once,  I  let  that  pass.  But,  squire, 
though  but  a  sergeant  in  His  Majesty's  service,  I  had 
my  pride  as  you  had  yours,  and  I  told  him  at  once  that 
I  would  not  give  my  consent  to  my  daughter's  marrying 
him  until  you  had  given  yours,  and  that  he  must  leave 


64 


WltH  WOLFE  IN   CANADA. 


the  house  at  once  and  not  see  Agnes  again  until  he 
came  with  your  written  consent  to  show  me. 

"  He  went  away  at  once.  After  a  time  he  began  to 
write  to  me,  urging  me  to  change  my  decision,  and 
from  this,  although  he  never  said  so,  I  was  sure  that 
you  had  refused  to  sanction  his  marriage.  However, 
I  stuck  to  what  I  had  said,  though  it  was  hard  for  me 
to  do  so  with  my  child  growing  thin  and  pale  before 
my  eyes,  with  all  her  bright  happiness  gone.  So  it 
went  on  for  three  months,  and  then  one  morning  she 
was  gone,  and  I  found  a  letter  on  her  table  for  me, 
saying  that  she  had  been  married  to  him  a  week  before, 
when  she  went  out,  as  I  thought,  to  spend  the  day  with 
a  friend.  She  begged  and  prayed  me  to  forgive  her, 
and  said  how  miserable  she  had  been,  and  that  she 
could  not  say  no  to  her  lover's  pleadings. 

"  I  wrote  to  the  address  she  had  given  me,  saying 
that  she  had  well-nigh  broken  my  heart.  She  knew 
that  I  had  only  refused  my  consent  because  it  would 
have  seemed  a  dishonorable  action  to  allow  your  son 
to  marry  her  without  your  consent,  she  knew  how  hard 
it  had  been  for  me  to  do  my  duty  when  I  saw  her 
pining  before  my  eyes,  but  I  forgave  her  wholly,  and  did 
not  altogether  blame  her,  seeing  that  it  was  the  way  of 
Nature  that  young  women,  when  they  once  took  to 
loving,  should  put  their  father  altogether  in  the  second 
place,  but  that  until  you  had  given  way  I  could  not  see 
her  or  sanction  her  marriage.  It  was  hard  to  me  to 
write  that  letter,  for  I  longed  to  see  her  bonny  face 
again.  But  I  thought  it  was  my  duty.  I  thought  so 
then;  but  I  think  now  it  was  pride. 

"  From  time  to  time  she  wrote  to  me.  I  learned  that 
you  still  refused  to  see  your  son,  and  I  gathered,  though 
she  did  not  say  much  of  this,  that  things  were  going 
badly  with  them.  At  last  she  wrote  that  her  husband 
was  ill,  very  ill,  she  feared.  He  had  in  vain  tried  to 
get  employment.  I  don't  think  he  was  naturally 
strong,  and  the  anxiety  had  broken  him  down.  Then 
I  went  up  to  London  at  once  and  found  them  in  a  little 


-^iN-Wf- 


THE   SQUIRE'S  GRANDDAUGHTER. 


woman  to  look  after  il     t  ^    ""*  ''ou^e  on  withonti 

to  be  naoving  about  *so\?om'1^^^  '°°'  «""  longed 
my  debts,  and  laid  bv  fh»  "^  "'^  *«  furniture  nfid 
the  child's  use  in  the'jitu^e   '"'^"^^  ^''^^  'emai„ed'^?or 

■ng.th/couS";  whh  alhX^I  t"  °''^  ^^^'"^de  travel- 
again  just  as  I  was  leptinJ"    ^.''appened  to  meet  him 

ciii^d  i^:^t^^^t^  fht  -  ]'i  r 

oiif  nt  c  .V  "^'t"  some  oeonlp  T  i,„  ^  ,  '*"  the 
out  of  Southampton  cam^  ,,y[  K  ™«w  a  few  miles 
show,  and  started  it  ^,^'  Z  °  ^°"'^°"'  bough  a 
after  a  year  I  fetched  the^hild  .?  ^  '^°I^  «*  firstf  bu? 
the^country  with  -,  ^alf  l^^/ff  S^XV^  S£ 

time'lt'cat"u"eS  fnV'  ''Y°^-'^'  -^  after  a 
doing  nVht,  and  whYtherXT'^  f.'J'  whether  I  was 
not  .;o  tell  you  that  X  ..*''^  'Child's  sake  I  oi.o^hf 

"P  if  you  w^ere  wfl  inj'to  ^.v'T'  ""^  °^''  to  give  fer 
son's  death  had  cha^|J°  **':^  ''^r-  ,  I  heard  hfw  your 
you  would  like  to  take  Ws  d"'„^"u^  *''°"ght  that  maybe 
'ng  her  to  you    I  thl    i .  ^^^'"^'■''  hut  before  brin^    • 
education  tha":.  ?had  dmefolf''^ '''^""d  ^ave  ^  & 


•  -^  m.mH  ,   .^ 


^•1  '■^■..— __  . 


66 


WITH  WOLFE  IN  CANADA. 


squire,  you  know  all  about  it.  I  have  been  wrong  to 
keep  her  so  long  from  you,  I  grant;  but  I  can  only 
say  that  I  have  done  my  duty  as  far  as  I  could,  and 
that,  though  I  have  made  many  mistakes,  my  conscience 
is  clear  that  I  did  the  best  as  far  as  it  seemed  to  me  at 
the  time." 

CHAPTER  V. 


A  QUIET  TIME. 

As  the  sergeant  was  telling  the  ory  the  squire  had 
sat  with  his  face  shaded  by  his  hand,  but  more  than 
one  tear  had  dropped  heavily  on  the  table. 

"  I  wish  I  could  say  as  much,"  he  said  sadly,  when 
the  other  ended.  "  I  wish  that  I  could  say  that  my 
conscience  is  clear,  Mr.  Wilks.  I  have  misjudged  you 
cruelly,  and  that  without  a  tithe  of  the  reason  which 
you  had  for  thinking  me  utterly  heartless  and  cruel. 
You  will  have  heard  that  I  never  got  those  letters  my 
son  Wrote  me  after  he  was  ill,  and  that  when  I  returned 
home  and  received  them  I  posted  to  Southampton  only 
to  find  that  I  was  too  late,  and  that  for  a  year  I  did 
all  in  my  power  to  find  the  child.  Still  all  this  is  no 
excuse.  I  refused  to  forgive  him,  returned  his  letters 
unanswered,  and  left  him,  as  it  seemed,  to  his  fate. 

"  It  is  no  excuse  to  say  that  I  had  made  up  my  mind 
to  fc^rgive  him  when  he  was,  as  I  thought,  sufficiently 
punished.  He  did  not  know  that.  As  to  the  poverty 
in  which  you  found  him,  I  can  only  plead  that  I  did 
not  dream  that  he  would  come  to  that.  He  had,  I 
knew,  some  money,  for  I  had  just  sent  him  his  half- 
yearns  allowance  before  he  wrote  to  me  about  this  busi- 
ness. Then  there  was  the  furniture  of  his  rooms  in 
London,  his  horses,  jewels,  and  other  matters.  I  had 
thought  he  could  go  on  very  well  for  a  year.  Of  course 
I  was  mistaken.  Herbert  was  always  careless  about 
money,  and  no  doubt  he  spent  it  freely  after  he  was 
first  married.    He  would  naturally  wish  to  have  every- 


''*"*    *  '■*■■  ■    *•  -   «•'       •-  ^     ,fc.,,.MW-    •- 


A  0V1£T  tiMS. 


61 


t  to 

Dtily 
and 
ence 
le  at 


e  bad 
J  than 

when 
lat  my 
ed  you 

which 
cruel. 

ers  my 
iturned 
)n  only 
I  did 

IS  is  no 
letters 

ite. 

ty  mind 
iciently 

Vt  I  did 
had,  I 
lis  hali- 
lis  busi- 
Dms  in 
I  had 
If  course 
Is  about 
he  was 
le  every- 


thing pretty  and  nice  for  his  young  wife,  and  no  doubt 
he  counted  upon  my  forgiving  mm  long  before  the 
money  was  spent. 

"  I  am  not  excusing  myself.  God  knows  how  bitterly 
I  have  condemned  myself  all  these  years.  I  only  want 
to  show  you  that  I  had  no  idea  of  condemning  him  to 
starvation;  he  was  my  only  son,  and  I  loved  him.  I 
felt  perhaps  his  rebelHon  all  the  more,  because  he  had 
never  before  given  me  a  day's  trouble.  I  was  harsh, 
obstinate,  and  cruel.  I  have  only  the  one  old  excuse. 
I  never  thought  it  would  turn  out  as  it  did.  What 
would  I  give  if  I  could  say,  as  you  can,  that  you  have 
a  clear  conscience,  and  that  you  acted  always  as  it 
seemed  to  be  your  duty!  And  now,  Mr.  Wilks,  now 
that  I  have  heard  your  story  I  trust  that  you  will  for- 
give my  past  suspicions  of  you,  and  let  me  say  how 
much  I  honor  and  esteem  you  for  your  conduct.  No 
words  can  tell  you  how  I  thank  you  for  your  goodness 
and  kindness  to  my  little  granddaughter — our  little 
granddaughter,  I  should  say.  You  have  the  better 
right  a  thousandfold  to  her  than  I  have;  and  had  I 
been  in  your  place  I  could  never  have  made  such  a 
sacrifice. 

"  We  must  be  friends,  sir,  great  friends.  Our  past 
has  been  saddened  by  the  same  blow.  All  our  hopes 
in  the  future  are  centered  on  the  same  object." 

The  two  men  rose  to  their  feet  together,  and  their 
hands  met  in  a  firm  clasp  and  tears  stood  in  both  their 
eyes.  Then  the  squire  put  his  hand  on  the  other's 
shoulder  and  said :  "  We  will  talk  again  presently.  Let 
us  go  into  the  next  room.  The  little  one  is  longing  to 
see  you,  and  we  must  not  keep  her." 

For  the  next  hour  the  two  men  devoted  themselves 
to  the  child.  Now  that  she  had  her  old  friend  with 
her  she  felt  no  further  misgivings,  and  was  able  to  enter 
into  the  full  delight  of  her  new  home. 

The  house  and  its  wonders  were  explored,  and  much 
as  she  was  delighted  with  these,  the  gardens  and  park 
W«rc  an  even  greater  excitement  and  pleasure.    Dane- 


>-0<'%i*«M>"'*"*^*'   '  •" 


^■^■a,ii-j.i^JUJi,',U..JL.'.L^W 


63 


WltH   WOtFE  IN  CANADA. 


ing,  chattering,  asking  questions  of  une  or  the  other, 
she  was  half  wild  with  pleasure,  and  the  squire  was  no 
less  delighted.  A  new  light  and  joy  had  come  into 
his  life,  and  with  it  the  ten  years  which  sorrow  and 
regret  had  laid  upon  him  had  fallen  off;  for  although 
his  habits  of  seclusion  and  quiet  had  caused  him  to  be 
regarded  as  quite  an  old  man  by  his  neighbors,  he  was 
still  three  years  short  of  sixty,  while  the  sergeant  was 
two  years  younger. 

It  was  a  happy  morning  for  them  all  three ;  and  when 
John  Petersham  went  in  after  lunch  to  the  kitchen  he 
assured  his  fellow-servants  that  it  was  as  much  as  he 
could  do  to  keep  from  crying  with  joy  at  the  sight  of 
the  squire's  happy  face,  and  to  hear  him  laugh  and 
joke  as  he  had  not  done  for  eight  years  now.  The 
sergeant  had  stopped  to  that  meal,  for  he  saw  by  the 
manner  in  which  the. squire  asked  him  that  he  should 
give  pain  if  he  refused,  and  there  was  a  simple  dignity 
about  the  old  soldier  which  would  have  prevented  his 
appearing  out  of  place  at  the  table  of  the  highest  in  the 
land. 

"  Now,  pussy,"  the  squire  said,  when  they  had  fin- 
ished, "  you  must  amuse  yourself  for  a  bit.  You  can 
go  in  the  garden  again,  or  sit  with  Mrs.  Morcombe  in 
her  room;  she  will  look  you  out  some  picture-books 
from  the  library.  I  am  afraid  there  is  nothing  very 
suited  to  your  reading,  but  we  will  soon  put  all  that  right. 
Your  grandfather  and  I  want  to  have  another  quiet 
chat  together." 

"  Now  I  want  your  advice,"  he  said  when  they  were 
both  comfortably  seated  in  the  study.  "  You  see,  you 
have  "been  thinking  and  planning  about  the  child  for 
years,  while  it  has  come  new  upon  rhe,  so  I  must  rely 
upon  you  entirely.  Of  course  the  child  must  have  a 
governess,  that  is  the  first  thing,  not  so  much  for  the 
sake  of  teaching  her,  though,  of  course,  she  must  be 
taught,  but  as  a  companion  for  her." 

"  Yes,"  the  sergeant  assented,  "  she  must  have  a 
governess."^ 


^1^1"...  ■  ■! 


A  QtHET  TIMB. 


69 


were 
you 
ft  for 
rely 
,ve  a 
the 
t  be 

Ive  a 


"  It  will  be  a  troublesome  matter  fo  find  one  to  suit," 
the  squire  said  thoughtfully.  "  I  don't  want  a  harsh 
sort  of  Gorgon  to  repress  her  spirits  and  bother  her 
life  out  with  rules  and  regulations;  and  I  won't  have 
a  giddy  young  thing,  because  I  should  like  to  have  the 
child  with  me  at  breakfast  and  lunch,  and  I  don't  want 
a  fly-away  young  woman  who  will  expect  all  sorts  of 
attention.  Now,  what  is  your  idea?  I  have  no  doubt 
you  have  pictured  in  your  mind  the  exact  sort  of  woman 
you  would  like  to  have  over  her." 

"  I  have,"  the  sergeant  answered  quietly.  "  I  don't 
know  whether  it  would  suit  you,  squire,  or  whether  it 
could  be  managed;  but  it  does  seem  to  me  that  you 
have  got  the  very  woman  close  at  hand.  Aggie  has 
been  for  two  years  with  Mrs.  Walsham,  who  is  a  lady  in 
every  way;  she  is  very  fond  of  the  child,  and  the  child 
is  very  fond  of  her.  Everyone  says  she  is  an  excellent 
teacher.  She  would  be  the  very  woman  to  take  charge 
of  her." 

"  The  very  thing! "  the  squire  exclaimed  with  great 
satisfaction.  "  But  she  has  a  school,"  he  went  on,  his 
face  falling  a  little,  "  and  there  is  a  son." 

"  I  have  thought  of  that,"  the  sergeant  said.  "  The 
school  enables  them  to  live,  but  it  cannot  do  much 
more,  so  that  I  should  think  she  would  feel  no  reluct- 
ance at  giving  that  up." 

**  Money  would  be  no  object,"  the  squire  said.  "  I 
am  a  wealthy  man,  Mr.  Wilks,  and  have  been  laying 
by  the  best  part  of  my  income  for  the  last  eight  years. 
I  would  pay  any  salary  she  chose,  for  the  comfort  of 
such  an  arrangement  would  be  immense,  to  say  nothing 
of  the  advantage  and  pleasure  it  would  be  to  the  child. 
But  how  about  the  boy?  " 

"  We  both  owe  a  good  deal  to  the  boy,  ;^quire,"  the 
sergeant  said  gravely,  **  for  if  it  had  not  been  for  him 
the  child  would  have  been  lost  to  us." 

"  So  she  was  telling  me  last  night,"  the  squire  said. 
"  And  he  really  saved  her  life?  " 

"  He  did,"  the  sergeant  replied.    "  But  for  his  pluck 


iEBSS 


70 


WITH  WOLFE  IN  CANADA. 


and  promptitude  she  must  have  been  drowned.  M 
moment's  hesitation  on  his  part  and  nothing  could  have 
saved  her." 

"  I  made  up  my  mind  last  night,"  the  squire  said, 
"  to  do  something  for  him.  I  have  seen  him  before, 
and  was  much  struck  with  him." 

"  Then  in  that  case,  squire,  I  think  the  thing  could 
be  managed.  If  the  lad  were  sent  to  a  good  school 
his  mother  might  undertake  the  management  of  Aggie; 
she  could  either  go  home  of  an  evening  or  sleep  here 
and  shut  up  her  house,  as  you  might  arrange  with  her, 
living,  of  course,  at  home  when  the  boy  was  home  for 
his  holidays,  and  only  coming  up  for  a  portion  of  the 
day." 

"  That  would  be  a  capital  plan,"  the  squire  agreed 
warmly;  "the  very  thing.  I  should  get  off  all  the 
bother  with  strange  women,  and  the  child  would  have  a 
lady  she  is  already  fond  of,  and  who,  I  have  no  doubt,  is 
thoroughly  qualified  for  the  wcrk.  Nothing  could  be 
better.  I  will  walk  down  this  afternoon  and  see  her 
myself,  and  I  have  no  doubt  I  shall  be  able  to  arrange  it. 
And  now  about  yourself— what  are  your  plans? " 

"  I  shall  start  to-morrow  morning  on  my  tramp  as 
usual,"  the  sergeant  answered  quietly;  "but  I  shall  take 
care  in  future  that  I  do  not  come  with  my  box  within 
thirty  miles  or  so  of  Sidmouth.  I  do  not  want  Aggie's 
future  to  be  in  any  way  associated  with  a  showman's 
box.  I  shall  come  here  sometimes  to  see  her,  as  you 
have  kindly  said  I  may,  but  I  will  not  abuse  the  privi- 
lege by  coming  too  often;  perhaps  you  won't  think  a 
day  once  every  three  months  to  be  too  much?" 

"  I  should  think  it  altogether  wrong  and  monstrous !  " 
the  squire  exclaimed  hotly.  "  You  have  been  virtually 
the  child's  father  for  the  last  seven  years.  You  have 
cared  for  her,  and  loved  her,  and  worked  for  her.  She 
is  everything  to  you,  and  I  feel  how  vast  are  your  claims 
to  her  compared  to  mine;  and  now  you  talk  about 
going  away  and  coming  to  se«  her  onc^  every  three 


A  QUIET  TIMfi. 


ft 


A" 


J 


months!  The  idea  is  unnatural,  it  is  downright  mon- 
strous! No,  you  and  I  understand  each  other  at  last; 
would  to  Heaven  we  had  done  so  eight  years  back!  I 
feel  how  much  more  nobly  you  acted  in  that  unhappy 
matter  than  I  did,  and  I  esteem  and  honor  you.  We 
are  both  getting  on  in  life,  we  have  one  common  love 
and  interest,  we  stand  in  the  same  relation  to  the  child, 
and  I  say  emphatically  that  you  have  a  right,  and  more 
than  a  right,  to  a  half  share  in  her.  You  must  go  away 
no  more,  but  remain  here  as  my  friend  and  as  joint 
guardian  of  the  child. 

**  I  will  have  no  refusal,  man,"  he  went  on  as  the  ser- 
geant shook  his  head.  "  Your  presence  here  will  be 
almost  as  great  a  comfort  to  me  as  to  the  child.  I  am 
a  lonely  man.  For  years  I  have  cut  myself  loose  from 
the  world;  I  have  neither  associates  nor  friends.  But 
now  that  this  great  load  is  off  my  mind  my  first  want  is 
a  friend ;  and  who  could  be  so  great  a  friend,  who  could 
enter  into  my  plans  and  hopes  for  the  future  so  well  as 
yourself,  who  would  have  an  interest  in  them  equal  to 
my  own?  " 

The  sergeant  was  much  moved  by  the  squire's  earnest- 
ness. He  saw  that  the  latter  had  really  at  heart  the 
proposal  he  made. 

"  You  are  very  good,  squirt,"  he  said  in  a  low  voice; 
"  but  even  if  I  could  bring  myself  to  eat  another  man's 
bread  as  long  as  I  can  work  for  my  own,  it  would  not 
do.  I  am  neither  by  birth  nor  education  fitted  for  such 
a  position  as  that  you  oflfer  to  me." 

"Pooh!  nonsense!"  the  squire  said  hotly;  "you 
have  seen  the  world,  you  have  traveled  and  mixed  with 
men,  you  are  fit  to  associate  as  an  equal  with  anyone. 
Don't  you  deceive  yourself;  you  certainly  do  not  de- 
ceive me.  It  is  pride  that  stands  in  your  way.  For 
that  you  are  going  to  risk  the  happiness  of  your  grand- 
daughter, to  say  nothing  of  mine;  for  you  don't  sup- 
pose that  either  of  us  is  going  to  feel  comfortable  and 
happy  when  the  snow  is  whirling  round  and  the  wind 


12 


WITH   WOLFE  IN  CANADA, 


^ 


sweeping  the  moors,  to  think  of  you  trudging  along 
about  the  country  while  we  are  sitting  snugly  here  by 
a  warm  fire. 

"  You  are  wanting  to  spoil  everything  now  that  it  has 
all  come  right  at  last,  by  just  the  same  obstinate  pride 
which  wrecked  the  lives  of  our  children.  I  won't  have 
it,  man,  I  won't  hear  of  it.  Come,  say  no  more ;  I  want 
a  friend  badly,  and  I  am  sure  we  shall  suit  each  other. 
I  want  a  companion.  Why,  man,  if  I  were  a  rich  old 
lady  and  you  were  a  poor  old  lady,  and  I  asked  you  to 
come  as  my  companion,  you  would  ee  nothing  deroga- 
tory in  the  offer.  You  shall  com  as  my  companion, 
now,  or  if  you  like  as  joint  guardian  to  the  child.  You 
shall  have  your  own  rooms  in  the  house;  and  when  you 
feel  inclined  to  be  grumpy  and  don't  care  to  take  your 
meals  with  the  child  and  me  you  can  take  them  apart. 

"  At  any  rate  try  it  for  a  month,  and  if  you  are  not 
comfortable  then  I  will  let  you  go,  though  your  rooms 
shall  always  be  in  readiness  for  you  whenever  you  are 
disposed  to  come  back.  Come,  give  me  your  hand  on 
the  bargain." 

Sergeant  Wilks  could  resist  no  longer.  The  last  two 
years*  work  without  the  child  had  indeed  been  heavy, 
and  especially  in  winter  when  the  wind  blew  strong 
across  the  uplands  he  began  to  feel  that  he  was  no 
longer  as  strong  as  he  used  to  be.  The  prospect  of  hav- 
ing Aggie  always  near  him  was,  however,  a  far  greater 
temptation  than  that  of  ending  his  days  in  quiet  and 
comfort. 

His  hand  and  that  of  the  squire  met  in  a  cordial  grip, 
and  the  matter  was  settled.  Fortunately,  as  the  ser- 
geant reflected,  he  had  still  his  pension  of  ten  shillings  a 
week,  which  would  suffice  to  supply  clothes  and  other 
little  necessaries  which  he  might  require,  and  would  thus 
save  him  from  being  altogether  dependent  on  the  squire. 

Aggie  was  wild  with  delight  when  she  was  called  in 
and  informed  of  the  arrangement.  The  thought  of  her 
grandfather  tramping  the  country  alone  had  been  the 
pne  drawbaQk  to  the  pleasure  of  her  life  at  Mrs,  Wal' 


\ 


;her 
hus 
ire. 


\ 


\ 


A   QUIET   TIME. 


73 


iJiam's,  and  many  a  time  she  had  cried  herself  to  sleep 
as  she  pictured  to  herself  his  loneliness.  That  he  was 
to  be  with  her  always,  was  to  give  up  his  work,  to  settle 
down  in  comfort,  was  indeed  a  delij,dit  to  her.  Greatly 
pleased  was  she  also  to  hear  that  Mrs.  Walsham  was  to 
be  asked  to  come  up  to  be  her  governess. 

"Oh,  it  will  be  nice!"  she  exclaimed,  clapping  her 
hands.  "  Just  like  the  fairy  stories  you  used  to  tell  me, 
grampa,  when  everyone  was  made  happy  at  the  end  by 
the  good  fairy.  Grandpapa  is  the  good  fairy,  and  you 
and  I  are  the  prince  and  princess ;  and  James — and  what 
is  to  be  done  with  James — is  he  to  come  up  too?  " 

"  No,  my  dear,"  the  squire  said  smiling.  "  James  is 
to  go  to  a  good  school,  but  you  will  see  him  when  he 
comes  home  for  his  holidays;  but  that  part  of  it  is  not 
arranged  yet,  you  know;  but  if  you  will  put  on  your  hat 
you  can  walk  down  with  us  to  the  town  and  introduce 
me  to  Mrs.  Walsham." 

Mrs.  Walsham  had  just  dismissed  her  pupils  when 
the  party  arrived,  and  was  thinking  how  quiet  and  dull 
the  house  was  without  Aggie,  when  the  door  opened 
and  the  child  rushed  in  and  threw  her  arms  round  her 
neck. 

"  Oh,  I  have  such  good  news  to  tell  you!  Grandpapa 
is  so  good  and  kind,  and  grampa  is  going  to  live  with  us, 
and  you  are  to  come  up  too,  and  James  is  to  go  to 
school.     Isn't  it  all  splendid?" 

"What  are  you  talking  about,  Aggie?"  Mrs.  Wal- 
sham asked,  bewildered,  as  the  child  poured  out  her 
news. 

"  Aggie  is  too  fast,  madam,"  the  squire  said,  entering 
the  room  accompanied  by  the  sergeant.  "  She  is  taking 
it  all  for  granted  while  it  has  yet  to  be  arranged.  I  must 
apologize  for  coming  in  without  knocking;  but  the 
child  opened  the  door  and  rushed  in,  and  the  best  thing 
to  do  was,  we  thought,  to  follow  her.  I  have  come,  in 
the  first  place,  to  thank  you  for  your  great  kindness  to 
my  little  granddaughter,  and  to  tell  your  son  how  deeply 
I  feel  indebted  to  lum  for  having  saved  her  life  two  j^ears 


74 


WITH   WOLFE  IN  CANADA. 


ago.  Now,  Aggie,  you  run  away  and  look  for  youf 
friend  while  I  talk  matters  over  with  Mrs.  V/alsham." 

Aggie  scampered  away  to  find  James,  who  was  at 
work  at  his  books,  and  to  tell  him  the  news,  while  the 
squire  unfolded  his  plans  to  Mrs.  Walsham. 

His  offers  were  so  handsome  that  Mrs  Walsham 
accepted  them  without  an  instant's  hesitation.  She  was 
to  have  the  entire  charge  of  the  child  during  the  day, 
with  the  option  of  either  returning  home  in  the  evening 
when  Aggie  went  in  to  dessert  after  dinner  or  of  living 
entirely  at  the  Hall.  The  squire  explained  his  inten- 
tion of  sending  James  to  a  good  school  at  Exeter  as  an 
installment  of  the  debt  he  owed  him  for  saving  the  child's 
life,  and  he  pointed  out  that  when  he  was  at  home  for 
his  holidays  Aggie  could  have  her  holidays  too,  and 
Mrs.  Walsham  need  only  come  up  to  the  Hall  when  she 
felt  inclined. 

Mrs.  Walsham  was  delighted  with  the  offer,  even 
more  for  James'  sake  than  her  own,  although  the  pros- 
pect for  herself  was  most  pleasant.  To  have  only  Aggie 
to  teach  and  walk  with  would  be  delightful  after  the 
monotony  of  drilling  successive  batches  of  girls,  often 
inordinately  tiresome  and  stupid.  She  said  at  once  that 
she  should  prefer  returning  home  at  nfght — a  decision 
which  pleased  the  squire,  for  he  had  wondered  wbd^  he 
should  do  with  her  in  the  evening. 

The  arrangement  was  at  once  carried  into  effect. 
The  school  was  broken  up,  and  as  the  parents  of  the 
children  were  almost  all  tenants  of  the  squire  tiiey 
offered  no  objection  to  the  girls  being  ruddenly  left  on 
their  hands  when  they  heard  that  their  teacher  was 
going  to  live  as  governess  at  the  Hall.  Indeed,  the  sur- 
prise of  Sidmouth  and  the  neighborhood  at  learning 
that  the  little  girl  at  Mrs.  Walsham's  was  the  squire's 
g.  anddaughter,  and  that  the  showman  was  therefore  a 
connection  of  the  squire  and  was  going  also  to  live  at 
the  Hall,  was  so  great  that  there  was  no  room  for  any 
other  emotion.  Save  ;or  wrecks,  or  the  arrival  of  shoals 
pf  fish  off  the  coast,  ur  of  troubles  between  the  smug- 


wont 
It 


A  ouiET  nut. 


n 


glers  and  the  revenue  officers,  Sidmouth  had  few  excite- 
ments, and  the  present  news  afforded  food  for  endless 
talk  and  conjecture. 

On  comparing  notes  it  appeared  that  there  was  not  a 
woman  in  the  place  who  had  not  been  all  along  con- 
vinced that  the  little  girl  at  Mrs.  Walsham's  was  some- 
thing more  than  she  seemed  to  be,  and  that  the 
showman  was  a  man  quite  out  of  the  ordinary  way. 
And  when  on  the  following  Sunday  the  sergeant,  .who 
had  in  the  mean  time  been  to  Exeter,  walked  quietly 
into  church  with  the  squire,  all  agreed  that  the  well- 
dressed  military-looking  man  was  a  gentleman,  and  that 
he  had  only  been  masquerading  under  the  name  of  Ser- 
geant Wilks  until  somehow  or  other  the  quarrel  between 
him  and  the  squire  was  arranged,  and  the  little  heiress 
restored  to  her  position ;  and  Sidmouth  remained  in  that 
belief  to  the  end. 

The  sergeant's  military  title  was  henceforth  dropped. 
Mr.  Linthorne  introduced  him  to  his  acquaintances — 
who  soon  began  to  flock  in  when  it  was  known  that  the 
squire's  granddaughter  had  come  home,  and  that  he  was 
willing  to  see  his  friends  and  join  in  society  again— as 
"  My  friend  Mr.  Wilks,  the  father  of  my  poor  boy's 
wife."  And  the  impression  made  was  generally  favor- 
able. 

None  had  ever  known  the  exact  story  of  Herbert's 
marriage.  It  was  generally  supposed  that  he  Jiad 
marned  beneath  him;  but  the  opinion  now  was  that  this 
must  have  been  a  mistake,  for  there  was  nothing  in  any 
way  vulgar  about  the  quiet,  military-looking  gentleman 
with  whom  the  squire  was  evidently  on  terms  of  warm 
friendship. 

The  only  person  somewhat  dissatisfied  with  the 
arrangement  was  James  Walsham.  He  loved  his  mother 
so  much  that  he  had  never  offered  the  slightest  dissent 
to  her  plan  that  he  should  follow  in  his  father's  footsteps. 
She  was  so  much  set  on  the  matter  that  he  could  never 
bring  himself  to  utter  a  word  in  opposition.  At  heart, 
however^  he  longed  for  a  more  stirring  and  more  adven- 


76 


WITH   WOLFE  IN   CANADA. 


turous  life,  such  as  that  of  a  soldier  or  sailor,  and  he  had 
all  along  cherished  a  secret  hope  that  something  might 
occur  to  prevent  his  preparing  for  the  medical  pro- 
fession, and  ^o  enable  him  to  carry  out  his  secret  wishes. 
But  the  present  arrangement  seemed  to  put  an  end  to  all 
such  hopes,  and  although  grateful  to  the  squire  for 
Standing  him  to  a  good  school,  he  wished  with  all  his 
heart  that  he  had  chosen  some  other  way  of  manifesting 
his  gratitude. 

Four  years  passed  quietly.  James  Walsham  worked 
hard  when  at  school,  and  during  his  holidays  spent  his 
time  for  the  most  part  on  board  the  fishermen's  boats. 
Sometimes  he  went  up  to  the  Hall,  generally  at  the 
invitation  of  Mr.  Wilks. 

"  Why  don't  you  come  oftener,  Jim?  "  the  latter  asked 
him  one  day.  "  Aggie  was  saying  rnly  yesterday  that 
you  used  to  be  such  friends  with  her,  and  now  you 
hardly  ever  come  near  her.  The  squire  is  as  pleased  as 
I  am  to  see  you." 

"  I  don't  know,"  Jim  replied.  "  You  see,  I  am  always 
comfortable  with  you;  I  can  chat  VN^ith  you,  and  tell  you 
about  school  and  about  fishing,  and  so  on.  The  squire 
is  very  kind,  but  I  know  it  is  only  because  of  that  pick- 
ing Aggie  out  of  the  water,  and  I  never  seem  to  know 
what  to  talk  about  with  him;  and  then,  you  see,  Aggie 
is  growing  a  young  lady,  and  can't  go  rambling  about 
at  my  heels  as  she  used  to  do  when  she  was  a  little  girl. 
I  like  her,  you  know,  Mr.  Wilks,  just  as  I  used  to  do; 
but  I  can't  carry  her  on  my  shoulder  now  and  make 
a  playfellow  of  her." 

"  I  suppose  that's  all  natural  enough,  Jim,"  Aggie's 
grandfather  said;  "  but  I  do  think  it  is  a  pity  you  don't 
come  up  more  often.  You  know  we  are  all  fond  of 
you,  and  it  will  give  us  a  pleasure  to  have  you  here." 

Jim  was,  in  fact,  getting  to  the  awkward  age  with 
boys.  When  younger  they  tyrannize  over  their  little 
sisters,  when  older  they  may  again  take  pleasure  in  girls' 
society;  but  there  is  an  age  in  every  boy's  life  when  he 
is  inclined  to  think  girls  a  nuisance,  as  creatures  incapa- 


A  QUIET  TIME. 


77 


ble  of  joining  in  games,  and  as  being*  apt  to  get  in  the 
way.  Still,  Jim  was  very  fond  of  his  former  playmate, 
and  had  she  been  still  living  down  in  Sidmouth  with 
his  mother  they  would  have  been  as  great  friends  as  ever. 

At  the  end  of  the  fourth  year  Richard  Horton  came 
back  after  an  absence  of  five  years.  He  was  now  nearly 
twenty,  and  had  just  passed  as  lieutenant.  He  was 
bronzed  with  the  Eastern  sun,  and  had  grown  from  a 
good-looking  boy  into  a  handsome  young  man,  and  was 
perfectly  conscious  of  his  good  looks.  Among  his  com- 
rades he  had  gained  the  nickname  of  **  The  Dandy  " — 
a  name  which  he  accepted  in  good  part,  although  it  had 
not  been  intended  as  complimentary,  for  Richard  Horton 
was  by  no  means  a  popular  member  of  his  mess.  Boys 
are  quick  to  detect  each  other's  failings,  and  several 
sharp  thrashings  when  he  first  joined  had  taught  Richard 
that  it  was  very  inexpedient  to  tell  a  lie  on  board  a  ship 
if  there  was  any  chance  of  its  being  detected. 

As  he  had  become  one  of  the  senior  midshipmen  his 
natural  haughtiness  made  him  disliked  by  the  younger 
lads,  w^hile  among  those  of  his  own  standing  he  had  not 
one  sincere  friend,  for  there  was  a  general  feeling  among 
them,  that,  although  Richard  Horton  was  a  pleasant 
companion  and  a  very  agreeable  fellow  when  he  liked, 
he  was  not  somehow  straight,  not  the  sort  of  fellow  to 
be  depended  upon  in  all  emergencies. 

By  the  captain  and  lieutenants,  he  was  considered  a 
smart  young  officer.  He  was  always  careful  to  do  his 
duty,  quiet  and  gentlemanly  in  manner,  and,  in  point 
of  appearance  and  dress,  a  credit  to  the  ship.  Accord- 
ingly all  the  reports  that  his  captain  had  sent  home  of 
him  had  been  favorable.  Great  as  was  the  rage  and 
disappointment  which  Richard  had  felt  when  he  received 
the  letter  from  his  uncle  telling  him  of  the  discovery  of 
his  long-lost  granddaughter,  he  had  the  tact  to  prevent 
any  signs  of  his  feelings  being  visible  in  the  letter  in 
which  he  replied.  The  squire  had  told  him  that  although 
the  discovery  would,  of  course,  make  a  considerable  dif- 
ference in  his  prospects,  he  should  still,  if  the  reports  of 


78 


WITH  WOLFE  IN  CANAPA, 


his  conduct  continued  satisfactory,  feel  it  his  duty  to 
make  a  handsome  provision  for  him. 

"  Thanks  to  my  quiet  Hfe  during  the  last  ten  years," 
the  squire  had  written,  "  I  have  plenty  for  both  of  you. 
The  estate  will,  of  course,  go  to  her;  but,  always  sup- 
posing that  your  conduct  will  be  satisfactory,  I  shall 
continue  during  my  life-time  the  allowance  you  at  pres- 
ent receive,  and  you  will  find  yourself  set  down  in  my 
will  for  the  sum  of  twenty  thousand  pounds." 

Richard  had  replied  in  terms  which  delighted  the 
squire. 

"  You  see  the  boy  has  a  good  heart,"  he  said,  as  he 
handed  the  letter  to  Mr.  Wilks.  "  No  one  could  express 
himself  better." 

His  companion  read  the  letter  over  in  silence. 

"  Charmingly  expressed,"  he  said  as  he  returned  it. 
'*  Almost  too  charmingly,  it  seems  to  me." 

**  Come,  come,  Wilks,  you  are  prejudiced  against  the 
young  fellow  for  that  business  with  Aggie  and  young 
Walsham." 

"  I  hope  I  am  not  prejudiced,  squire,"  his;  friend 
replied;  "  but  when  I  know  that  a  lad  is  a  liar,  and  that  he 
will  bring  false  accusations  to  shield  himself,  and  when 
I  know  that  he  was  detested  by  all  who  came  in  contact 
with  him — ^John  Petersham,  the  gardener,  and  the  grooms 
— I  require  a  good  deal  more  than  a  few  satisfactory 
reports  from  his  captain,  who  can  know  very  little  of  his 
private  character,  and  a  soft-soldering  letter  like  that» 
to  reinstate  him  in  my  good  opinion.  I  will  wager  that 
if  you  and  I  had  been  standing  behind  him  when  he 
opened  your  letter  you  would  have  heard  an  expression 
of  very  different  sentiments  from  those  he  writes  you 
here.  Look  at  this :  '  I  regret,  indeed,  my  dear  uncle, 
that  my  new  cousin  must  have  such  a  bad  opinion  of 
me,  owing  to  my  roughness  in  that  unfortunate  aflfair, 
which  I  have  never  ceased  to  regret;  but  I  hope  that 
when  we  meet  I  sh jU  be  able  to  overcome  the  dislike 
which  she  must  feel  for  me.'  Bah ! "  the  old  soldier 
said  scornfully,  "  I  would  lay  all  my  pension  to  a  shilling 


A   QUIET   TIME. 


79 


that  that  boy  has  already  made  up  his  mind  that  some 
day  he  will  marry  Aggie,  and  so  contrive  to  get  the 
estates  after  all." 

The  squire  burst  into  a  good-humored  laugh. 

"  It's  well  I  don't  take  up  your  wager.  Such  ideas 
as  that  might  occur  to  you  and  me,  but  hardly  to  a  lad 
not  yet  seventeen." 

"  Well,  we  shall  see,"  the  other  said,  cooling  down. 
"  I  hope  I  may  be  mistaken  in  him ;  we  shall  see  when 
he  comes  home." 

When  he  did  come  home,  the  old  soldier  could  find 
but  little  fault  with  the  young  man.  He  had  a  frank 
and  open  manner  such  as  is  common  to  men  of  his  pro- 
fession. He  was  full  of  life  and  anecdote ;  his  manner  to 
the  squire  was  admirable,  affectionate,  and  quietly 
respectful,  without  any  air  of  endeavoring  especially  to 
ingratiate  himself  with  him;  nor  could  the  ex-sergeant 
find  anything  to  complain  of  in  the  young  man's  manner 
toward  himself.  He  took  the  first  opportunity  when 
they  were  alone  to  say  how  glad  he  had  been  to  hear 
that  his  grandfather  had  met  with  a  friend  and  com- 
panion in  his  lonely  life,  and  to  express  a  hope  that  the 
bad  opinion  which  he  had  doubtless  formed  of  him  from 
his  conduct  when  a  boy  would  not  be  allowed  to  operate 
against  him  now. 

But  though  there  was  nothing  he  could  find  fault  with, 
the  old  soldier's  prejudices  were  in  no  way  shaken,  and 
indeed  his  antipathy  was  increased  rather  than  dimin- 
ished by  the  young  officer's  conduct  toward  Aggie.  It 
might  be,  of  course,  that  he  was  only  striving  to  over- 
come the  prejudiced  feeling  against  him;  but  every  time 
the  old  soldier  saw  him  with  his  granddaughter  he  felt 
angry. 

In  point  of  fact  Aggie  was  disposed  to  like  Richard 
even  before  his  arrival.  Six  years  had  eradicated  every 
tinge  of  animosity  for  that  shove  on  the  sand.  His 
letters  had  been  long,  bright,  and  anmsing,  and  with 
the  mementos  of  travel  which  he  picked  up  in  the  ports 
of  India  and  China,  and  from  time  to  time  sent  home  io 


8o 


WITH   WOLFE   IN   CANADA. 


his  uncle,  there  was  always  a  little  box  with  some  pretty 
trinket  "  for  my  cousin."  She  found  him  now  a  delight- 
ful companion;  he  treated  her  as  if  she  had  been  seven- 
teen instead  of  eleven,  was  ready  to  ride  or  walk  with 
her,  or  to  tell  her  stories  of  the  countries  he  had  seen, 
as  she  might  choose,  and  to  humor  all  her  v>^hims  and 
fancies. 

"Confound  him  and  his  pleasant  manners!"  the  ex- 
sergeant  would  mutter  to  himself  as  he  watched  them 
together,  and  saw,  as  he  believed,  in  the  distance,  the 
overthrow  of  the  scheme  he  had  at  heart.  "  He  is  turn- 
ing the  child's  head;  and  that  foolish  boy  James  is 
throwing  awav  his  chances." 

James  indeed  came  home  from  school  for  the  last 
time  two  or  three  weeks  after  Richard  Horton's  return. 
He  was  now  nearly  eighteen,  and  although  a  broad  and 
powerful  fellow,  was  still  a  boy  at  heart.  He  did  not 
show  to  advantage  by  the  side  of  Richard  Horton.  The 
first  time  he  went  up  to  the  Hall  after  his  return  the 
latter  had  met  him  with  outstretched  hand. 

"  I  am  glad  to  meet  you  again,"  he  said.  "  I  behaved 
like  a  blackguard  last  time  we  met,  and  you  gave  me  the 
thrashing  which  I  deserved.  I  hope  we  shall  get  on 
better  in  the  future." 

Aggie  and  her  two  grandfathers  were  present,  and 
James  Walsham  certainly  did  not  show  to  advantage 
by  the  side  of  the  easy  and  self-possessed  young  ofificer. 
He  muttered  something  abort  its  being  all  right,  and 
then  found  nothing  else  to  say,  being  uncomfortable 
and  ill  at  ease.  He  made  some  excuse  about  being 
wanted  at  home,  and  took  his  leave;  nor  did  he  again 
go  up  to  call.  Several  times  the  old  soldier  went  down 
to  Sidmouth  to  see  him,  and  on  one  occasion  remon- 
strated with  him  for  not  coming  up  to  the  Hall. 

"  What's  the  use?  "  James  said  roughly.  "  I  have  got 
lots  of  reading  to  do,  for  in  two  months,  you  know,  I 
am  to  go  up  to  London  to  walk  the  hospitals.  No  one 
wants  me  up  there.  Aggie  has  got  tiiat  cousin  of  hers 
to  amuse  her,  and  I  should  feel  only  in  the  way  if  I 
went." 


\ 


I 


A  QUIET  TIME. 


8t 


Mr.  Wilks  was  fairly  out  of  temper  at  the  way  things 
were  going.  He  was  angry  with  James;  angry  with  the 
squire,  who  evidently  viewed  with  satisfaction  the  good 
understanding  between  his  granddaughter  and  nephew; 
angry  for  the  first  time  in  his  life  with  Aggie  herself. 

*'  You  are  grovvang  a  downright  little  flirt,  Miss 
Aggie,"  he  said  one  day  when  the  girl  came  in  from 
the  garden,  where  she  had  been  laughing  and  chatting 
with  her  cousin.  He  had  intended  to  speak  playfully, 
but  there  was  an  earnestness  in  his  tone  which  the  girl 
at  once  detected. 

"  Are  you  really  in  earnest,  grampa?  '*  she  asked,  for 
she  still  retained  the  childish  name  for  her  grandfather 
— so  distinguishing  him  from  the  squire,  whom  she 
always  called  grandpapa. 

"  No ;  I  don't  know  that  I  am  in  earnest,  Aggie,"  he 
said,  trying  to  speak  lightly;  "and  yet  perhaps  to  some 
extent  I  am." 

"  I  am  sure  you  are,"  the  girl  said.  "  Oh,  grampa! 
you  are  not  really  cross  with  me,  are  you?"  and  the 
tears  at  once  sprang  into  her  eyes.  "  I  have  not  been 
doing  anything  wrong,  have  I?  " 

"  No,  my  dear,  not  in  the  least  wrong,"  her  grand- 
father said  hastily;  ''still,  you  know  I  don't  like  seeing 
Jim,  who  has  always  been  so  good  and  kind  to  you, 
quite  neglected,  now  this  young  fellow,  who  is  not  fit 
to  hold  a  candle  to  him,  has  turned  up." 

"Well,  I  haven't  neglected  him,  grampa;  he  has 
neglected  me.  He  has  never  been  near  since  that  first 
day,  and  you  know  I  can't  very  well  go  round  to  Sid- 
mouth  and  say  to  him,  *  Please  come  up  to  the  Hall.' " 

"  No,  my  dear,  I  know  you  can't,  and  he  is  behaving 
like  a  young  fool." 

"Why  is  he?"  Aggie  asked,  surprised.  "If  he  likes 
sailing  about  better  than  coming  up  here,  why  shouldn't 
he?" 

"  I  don't  think  it's  for  that  he  stays  away,  Aggie.  In 
fact,  you  see  Jim  has  only  just  left  school,  and  he  feels 
he  can't  laugh,  and  talk,  and  tell  you  stories  about 


da 


WITH  Wolfe  in  caMaDA. 


foreign  countries  as  this  young  fellow  can,  and  having 
been  so  long  accustomed  to  have  you  to  himself,  he 
naturally  would  not  like  the  playing  second  fiddle  to 
Richard  Horton." 

*'  But  he  hasn't  been  here  much,"  the  girl  said,  "  ever 
since  I  came  here.  He  used  to  be  so  nice  and  so  kind 
in  the  old  days  when  I  lived  down  there  that  I  can't 
make  out  why  he  has  changed  so." 

"  My  dear,  I  don't  think  he  has  changed;  he  has  been 
only  a  boy,  and  the  fact  is,  he  is  only  a  boy  still.  He 
is  fond  of  sailing  and  of  the  amusements  boy<i  take  to, 
and  he  doesn't  feel  at  home  and  comfortable  here  as  he 
did  with  you  when  you  were  a  little  girl  at  his  mother's. 
But  mind,  Aggie,  James  is  as  true  as  steel;  he  is  an 
honorable  ana  upright  young  fellow.  He  is  worth  fifty 
of  this  self-satisfied,  pleasant-spoken  young  sailor." 

"  I  know  James  is  good  and  kind,  grampa,"  the  girl 
said  earnestly;  "  but  you  see  he  is  not  very  amusing,  and 
Richard  is  very  nice." 

"Nice!  yes,"  the  old  soldier  said;  "a  fair-weather 
sort  of  niceness,  Aggie.  Richard  Horton  is  the  squire's 
nephew,  and  I  don't  wish  to  say  anything  against  him; 
but  mark  my  words,  and  remember  them,  there's  more 
goodness  in  James'  little  finger  than  there  is  in  his  whole 
body.  But  there,  I  am  a  fool  to  be  talking  about  it. 
There  is  your  cousin  caUing  you  in  the  garden.  Go 
along  with  you." 

The  girl  went  off  slowly,  wondering  at  her  grand- 
father's earnestness.  She  knew  she  liked  her  old  play- 
mate far  better  than  Richard  Horton,  although  the 
latter's  attentions  pleased  and  flattered  her.  The  old 
soldier  went  straight  off  to  the  squire's  study. 

"  Squire,"  he  said,  "  you  remember  that  talk  we  had 
three  years  ago  when  our  nephew's  answer  came  to 
your  letter,  telling  him  that  Aggie  was  found?  I  told 
you  that  I  would  wager  he  had  made  up  his  mind  to 
marry  her.  You  laughed  at  me;  but  I  was  right.  Child 
though  she  still  is,  he  is  already  paving  the  way  for  the 
iutur©»" 


A   OUIET   TIME. 


83 


'*  Master  Richard  certainly  is  carrying  on  a  sort  of 
flirtation  with  the  Httle  witch,"  the  squire  said,  smiHng; 
"  but  as  she  is  such  a  mere  child,  as  you  say,  what  does 
it  matter?  '* 

**  I  think  it  matters  a  great  deal,"  the  old  soldier  said 
seriously.  "  I  see,  squire,  the  young  fellow  has  quite 
regained  your  good  opinion;  and,  unless  I  am  mistaken, 
you  have  already  thought  to  yourself  that  it  would  not 
be  a  bad  thing  if  they  were  to  come  together  some  day. 
I  have  thought  it  over,  and  have  made  up  my  mind 
that,  in  spite  of  your  four  years'  continued  kindness  to 
me  and  of  the  warm  friendship  betwe  m  us,  I  must  go 
away  for  a  time.  My  box  is  still  lying  at  Exeter,  and  I 
would  rather  tramp  the  co  mtry  again  and  live  on  it 
and  my  pension  than  stay  here  and  see  my  darling 
growing  up  a  woman  with  that  future  before  her.  I  am 
sorry  to  say,  squire,  that  what  you  call  my  prejudice  is 
as  strong  as  ever.  I  doubt  that  young  fellow  as  strongly 
as  I  did  before  he  came  home.  Then  I  only  had  his 
past  conduct  and  his  letter  to  go  by;  now  I  have  the 
evidence  of  my  own  senses.  You  may  ask  me  what 
I  have  against  him.  I  tell  you — nothing;  but  I  mis- 
doubt him  from  my  heart.  I  feel  that  he  is  false,  that 
what  he  was  when  a  boy  he  is  now.  There  is  no  true 
ring  about  him." 

The  squire  was  silent  for  a  minute  or  two.  He  had  a 
very  sincere  friendship  and  liking  for  his  companion, 
a  thorough  confidence  in  his  judgment  and  principles. 
He  knew  his  self-sacrificing  nature,  and  that  he  was  only 
speaking  from  his  love  for  his  grandchild. 

"  Do  not  let  us  talk  about  it  now,  old  friend,"  he  said 
quietly.  "  You  and  I  put  before  all  other  things  Aggie's 
happiness.  Disagreement  between  us  there  can  be  none 
on  the  subject.  Give  me  to-night  to  think  over  what 
you  have  said,  and  we  will  talk  about  it  again 
to-morrow." 


84 


WITH   WOLFE   IN   CANADA. 


CHAPTER  VI. 


A   STORM. 

After  breakfast  next  morning  the  squire  asked  his 
friend  to  go  with  him  into  his  study. 

"  I  have  been  thinking  this  matter  over,"  he  said, 
"  very  seriously,  and  upon  reflection  I  agree  with  you 
that  it  is  undesirable  that  Aggie  should  see  much  of 
Richard  until  she  is  of  an  age  to  form  a  fair  opinion  for 
herself,  and  to  compare  him  with  other  young  men.  I 
agree  with  you  also  that  we  have  not  yet  sufficient  proofs 
that  he  is  completely  changed.  I  hope  that  he  is.  You 
think  he  is  not.  At  any  rate  he  must  have  a  longer 
trial,  and  until  it  is  proved  to  your  satisfaction,  as  well 
as  mine,  that  he  is  in  every  way  a  desirable  husband  for 
Aggie,  the  less  they  see  of  each  other  the  better.  I 
therefore  propose  to  write  at  once  to  my  friend  Admiral 
Hewson  to  ask  him  to  use  his  influence  at  the  Admiralty 
to  get  the  young  fellow  appointed  to  a  ship.  Does  that 
meet  your  approval,  my  friend?  " 

"Quite  so,"  the  other  said  cordially;  "nothing  could 
be  better.  In  the  mean  time,  as  you  say,  should  Richard 
turn  out  well,  and  the  young  people  take  a  liking  for 
each  other,  no  match  could  be  more  satisfactory. 
What  I  want  is  that  she  should  take  no  girlish  fancy  for 
him  at  present." 

"  So  be  it,  then,"  the  squire  said.  "  I  think,  you  know, 
that  we  are  a  couple  of  old  fools  to  be  troubling  our- 
selves about  Aggie's  future  at  present.  Still  in  a  matter 
which  concerns  us  both  so  nearly  we  cannot  be  too  care- 
ful. If  we  had  a  woman  with  us  we  could  safely  leave 
the  matter  in  her  hands;  as  it  is  we  must  blunder  on  as 
best  we  may." 

And  so  it  was  settled,  and  a  week  later  Richard  Horton 
received  an  official  letter  from  the  Admiralty  ordering 
him  to  proceed  at  once  to  Portsmouth  to  join  the  Thetis, 
to  v/hich  he  was  appointed  as  fourth  lieutenant    The 


A  StdRW. 


«s 


Order  gave  Richard  extreme  satisfaction.  He  was  be- 
ginning to  find  his  Hfe  desperately  dull,  and  he  was 
heartily  sick  of  playing  the  attentive  nephew.  He  was 
well  content  with  the  progress  he  had  made;  nothing 
had  gore  wrong  since  he  returned,  his  uncle  had  clearly 
taken  Llm  back  into  his  favor,  and  he  had  no  doubt  that 
Aggie  quite  appreciated  the  pains  he  had  bestowed  to 
gain  her  liking. 

He  detested  the  squire's  companion,  for  he  felt  that  the 
latter  disliked  and  distrusted  him,  and  that  his  projects 
would  meet  with  a  warm  opposition  on  his  part.  Still, 
with  the  squire  and  Aggie  herself  on  his  side  he  did  not 
fear  the  result.  As  to  James  Walsham,  whom  he  had 
come  home  prepared  to  regard  as  a  possible  rival  from 
his  early  intimacy  with  the  child,  and  the  fact  that  his 
mother  was  her  governess,  he  now  regarded  him  with 
contempt  mingled  with  a  revengeful  determination  to 
pay  off  the  old  score  should  a  chance  ever  present  itself. 

He  therefore  started  next  day  in  high  spirits,  assum- 
ing, however,  a  great  reluctance  to  tear  himself  away. 
A  few  days  later  a  letter  came  from  him,  saying  that  he 
hoped  that  he  should  be  able  to  come  back  sometimes 
for  a  day  or  two,  as  the  Thetis  was  at  present  to  be 
attached  to  the  Channel  squadron,  and  it  was  not  ex- 
pected that  she  would  for  some  time  proceed  on  foreign 
service. 

Early  in  October  James  Walsham-  was  to  go  up  to 
London  to  commence  his  medical  course.  A  week 
before  he  was  to  start  Mr.  Wilks  went  down  in  the  morn- 
ing, intending  to  insist  on  his  returning  with  him  to  the 
Hall.  As  he  went  down  toward  Sidmouth  the  old 
soldier  noticed  how  strongly  the  wind  was  blowing,  the 
trees  were  swaying  and  thrashing  in  the  wind,  the  clouds 
were  flying  fast  overhead.  Everything  portended  a  se- 
vere gale.  Finding  at  Mrs.  Walsham's  that  James  was 
down  on  the  beach,  he  continued  his  course  until  he 
joined  him  there.  James  was  standing  with  a  group  of 
fishermen  who  were  looking  seaward.  Now  that  he  was 
exposed  to  the  full  force  of  the  wind,  Mr.  Wilks  felt  that 


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WITH  VfOttt  Ut  CANADA. 


not  only  was  it  going  to  blow  a  gale,  but  that  it  was 
blowing  one  already.  The  heavy  clouds  on  the  horizon 
seemed  to  lie  upon  the  water,  the  waves  were  breaking 
with  great  force  upon  the  beach,  and  the  fishermen  had 
hauled  their  boats  up  across  the  road. 

"  It's  blowing  hard,  Jim,"  he  said,  laying  his  hand  on 
the  young  fellow's  shoulder. 

"  It  is  blowing  hard,  and  it  will  blow  a  great  deal 
harder  before  nightfall;  the  fishermen  all  think  it  is  going 
to  be  an  exceptional  gale.  It  is  blowing  dead  on  shore. 
It  will  be  bad  work  for  any  ships  that  happen  to  be  com- 
ing up  Channel  to-day.  Eight  or  ten  of  our  boats  are 
out.  We  thought  we  had  made  out  three  of  them  just 
before  you  came,  but  the  cloud  closed  down  on  them. 
The  fishermen  are  just  going  to  get  life-lines  ready.  I 
am  afraid  we  are  going  to  have  a  terrible  night  of  it." 

"  I  came  down  to  ask  you  if  you  will  come  up  to  lunch, 
Jim,  but  I  suppose  you  will  not  be  able  to  tear  yourself 
away  from  here." 

"  I  shouldn't  like  to  leave  now,  indeed.  There  is  no 
saying  what  may  happen.  Besides,  so  many  of  the 
fishermen  are  away  that  I  may  be  useful  here  if  a  vessel 
comes  ashore,  and  there  may  be  half  a  dozen  before 
the  morning.  Every  hand  will  be  wanted  to  give 
assistance." 

"  But  you  could  not  get  a  boat  out  through  those 
breakers,  could  you,  Jim?  " 

"Yes,"  Jim  replied,  "we  might  get  one  of  the  big 
boats  through  it  now;  but  it's  going  to  be  worse  pres- 
ently. When  I  went  out  last  year  with  a  boat  to  the  brig 
which  was  driven  ashore,  it  was  worse  than  this.  I  shall 
be  very  glad  to  come  up  to-morrow  if  you  will  let  me.  I 
hear  that  fellow  Horton  went  away  last  week." 

"  Yes,  he  went  away,  Jim.  But  why  his  being  there 
should' have  kept  you  from  going  up  is  beyond  me." 

"  I  don^  like  the  fellow,  Mr.  Wilks.  He  may  mean 
very  well,  but  I  don't  like  him.  I  have  been  in  one  row 
about  him  with  the  squ're,  and  I  don't  want  another; 
but  I  am  quite  sure  if  ,1  had  gone  up  much  while  he  was 


w 


A  STOtLU. 


«» 


there  it  would  have  ended  in  my  trying  to  punch  his 
head  again/' 

"  In  that  case,  perhaps,"  the  old  soldier  said,  smiling, 
"  you  were  wise  to  stay  away,  Jim.  I  don't  like  the  lad 
myself;  still,  punching  his  head  would  not  have  been 
a  desirable  thing." 

"  I  am  glad  you  don't  like  him,"  James  said  warmly. 
"  Somehow  I  made  up  my  mind  that  you  were  all  sure 
to  like  him,  and  I  don't  suppose  the  idea  made  me  like 
him  atiy  the  better.  He  was  just  the  free-and-easy  sort 
of  fellow  to  get  along  well,  and  I  was  quite  sure  that 
Aggie  would  not  want  mc  when  she  had  him  to  go  about 
with  her.  I  saw  him  drive  through  in  the  pony-carriage 
with  her  two  or  three  times,  r.nd  it  wa;s  easy  to  see  how 
thoroughly  she  was  enjoying  herself." 

"  Well,  it  was  your  own  fault,  my  boy.  If  you  choose 
to  sulk  down  here  and  n'jver  to  go  up  to  the  Hall,  you 
can't  blame  Aggie  for  lettng  herself  be  amused  by  some- 
one else." 

"  Oh  !*  I  don't  blame  her,"  James  said  hastily.  "  Of 
course  it  is  all  right  that  she  should  enjoy  herself  with 
her  cousin;  only  somehow,  vou  know,  after  being  great 
friends  with  anyone,  one  ootsn't  like  to  see  someone 
else  stepping  into  your  place." 

"  But  as  I  have  told  you  over  and  over  again  during 
the  last  three  years,  Jim,  you  have  willfully  stepped  out 
of  your  place.  You  know  how  often  I  hav€  asked  you 
to  come  up,  and  how  seldom  you  have  come.  You  have 
never  shown  Aggie  that  you  have  any  wish  to  continue 
on  the  footing  of  friendship  on  which  you  stood  toward 
each  other  when  she  was  at  your  mother's,  and  as  you 
have  chosen  to  throw  her  over,  I  don't  see  why  she 
shouldn't  take  to  anyone  else  who  takes  pains  to  make 
himself  pleasant  to  her." 

"Oh!  I  don't  blame  her  a  bit,  Mr.  Wilks;  how  could 
you  think  such  a  thing?  I  was  very  fond  of  little  Aggie 
when  she  was  at  my  mother's;  but  of  course  I  was  not 
ass  enough  to  suppose  that  she  was  going  trotting  about 
the  country  with  me  when  she  once  went  up  to  the  Hall 


iT^-^^ -':-'"- II--- 


_iU— - 


M 


IVltH  WOLFfi  Itf  CAlYADA. 


as  the  squire's  granddaughter.    Of  course  the  whole 
•^hing  was  changed.    Ah !  here  comes  the  rain." 

As  he  spoke  a  sudden  splash  of  rain  struck  them.  It 
might  have  been  noticed  coming  across  the  water  in 
a  white  Hne.  With  it  came  a  gust  of  wind,  to  which 
that  which  had  already  been  blowing  was  a  trifle.  There 
was  no  more  talking,  for  nothing  less  than  a  shout  could, 
have  been  heard  above  the  roaring  of  the  wind.  It  was 
scarcely  possible  to  stand  against  the  fury  of  the  squall, 
and  they  were  driven  across  the  road,  and  took  shelter 
at  the  corner  of  some  houses  where  the  fishermen  had 
already  retired. 

The  squall  lasted  but  a  few  minutes,  but  was  soon 
succeeded  by  another  almost  equally  furious,  and  this 
seemed  to  increase  in  strength  until  the  wind  was  blow- 
ing a  perfect  hurricane ;  but  the  fishermen  now  struggled 
across  the  road  again,  for  between  the  rain  squalls  a 
glimpse  had  been  caught  of  two  of  the  fishing-boats,  and 
these  were  now  approaching  the  shore.  A  m  ■ -r  ,*ag  of 
sail  was  set  on  each,  and  yet  they  tore  over  the  waves 
at  tremendous  speed. 

One  was  some  two  hundred  yards  ahead  of  the  other, 
and  by  the  course  they  were  making  they  would  come 
ashore  nearly  at  the  same  spot.  The  news  that  two  boats 
were  in  si^ht  spread  rapidly,  and  many  of  the  fishermen's 
wives  with  shawls  over  their  heads  ran  down  and  stood 
peering  out  from  behind  shelter,  for  it  was  well-nigh 
impossible  to  stand  exposed  to  the  fury  of  the  gale.  An 
old  fisherman  stood  with  a  coil  of  rope  in  his  hand  close 
to  the  water's  edge.  Several  of  the  others  stood  close 
to  him,  and  four  of  them  had  hold  of  the  other  end  of 
the  rope.  When  the  boat  was  within  fifty  yards  of  the 
shore  the  sail  was  lowered;  but  she  still  drove  straight 
on  before  the  wind  with  scarce  an  abatement  in  her 
speed.  A  man  stood  in  her  bow,  also  with  a  coil  of  rope 
in  his  hand,  and  as  ne  approached  threw  it  far  ahead. 
The  fishermen  rushed  waist  deep  into  the  water  and 
caught  the  end  of  it,  which  in  a  moment  was  knotted 
to  the  one  in  his  hand. 


A  STORM. 


89 


"  Run  along  with  her,"  he  shouted. 

For  a  moment  the  boat  towered  on  the  top  of  a  wave 
which  raced  in  toward  the  shore.  The  next  as  it  came 
took  her  stern,  and  she  was  in  the  act  of  swinging  round 
when  the  strain  of  the  rope  came  upon  her  and  brought 
her  straight  again.  Higher  and  higher  the  wave  rose 
and  then  crashed  down,  and  the  boat  shot  forward  like 
an  arrow  in  the  foam.  The  fishermen  rushed  forward 
and  caught  it;  those  on  board  leaped  out  waist  deep;  all 
were  taken  off  their  feet  by  the  backward  rush,  but  they 
clung  to  the  sides  of  the  boat,  while  the  men  at  the  head- 
rope,  v/ith  their  heels  dug  de^ly  Into  the  sand,  with- 
stood the  strain,  and  kept  her  from  being  swept  out 
again. 

A  few  seconds  and  the  boat  was  left  dry,  and  the  next 
wave  carried  it  high  up  on  the  beach  amid  a  loud  cheer 
from  the  fishermen  and  lookers-on;  but  there  was  no 
time  to  waste,  for  the  next  boat  was  close  at  hand.  Again 
the  rope  was  thrown  to  the  shore,  but  this  time  the  strain 
came  a  moment  too  late ;  the  following  wave  turned  the 
boat  around,  the  next  struck  it  broadside  and  rolled  it 
over  and  over  toward  the  shore.  The  fishermen  in  an 
instant  joined  hands,  and  rushing  down  into  the  water, 
strove  to  grasp  the  men. 

Several  times  those  in  front  were  knocked  down  and 
rolled  up  on  the  beach,  but  three  of  the  crew  were 
brought  in  with  them.  There  was  one  still  missing,  and 
there  was  a  shout  as  he  was  seen  clinging  to  an  oar  just 
outside  the  line  of  breakers.  James  Walsham  had  been 
working  with  the  fishermen  in  saving  those  already 
brought  to  shore.  He  now  fastened  the  end  of  a  line 
around  his  body. 

"  You  can  never  get  through  those  rollers — they  will 
break  you  up  lika  an  egg-sihell,"  the  old  fisherman 
shouted. 

"  I  will  dive  through  them,"  Jim  shouted  back.  "  Give 
me  plenty  of  slack,  and  don't  pull  till  you  see  I  have  got 
him." 

The  lad  waited  for  his  opportunity,  and  then,  rushing 


90 


WITH   WOLFE  IN   CANADA. 


down  after  the  sheet  of  white  foam,  he  stood  waist  deep 
as  a  great  wave,  some  twelve  feet  high,  towered  up  like 
a  wall  toward  him.  It  was  just  going  to  break  when 
James  plunged  head  foremost  into  it.  There  was  a 
crash  which  shook  the  earth,  a  mass  of  wildly  rushing 
foam,  and  then,  some  ten  yards  beyond  the  spot  where 
the  wave  had  broken,  Jim's  head  appeared  above  the 
surface.  It  was  but  for  a  moment,  for  he  immediately 
dived  again  under  the  next  wave  and  then  came  up 
within  a  few  yards  of  the  floating  oar.  A  stroke  or  two 
and  he  was  alongside.  He  seized  the  man  9nd  held 
up  one  arm  as  a  signal.  In  a  moment  the  rope  tightened 
and  they  moved  toward  shore.  When  they  were  close 
to  the  edge  of  the  breaking  waves  Jim  held  up  liis  hand 
and  the  strain  stopped. 

"  New,"  he  said  to  the  man,  "  the  moment  they  begin 
to  pull  leave  go  of  the  oar  and  throw  your  arms  round 
me. 

He  waited  until  a  wave  bigger  than  ordinary 
approached,  and  just  as  it  began  to  pass  under  him  gave 
the  signal.  Higher  and  higher  they  seemed  to  rise;  then 
they  were  dashed  down  with  a  tremendous  shock;  there 
was  a  moment's  confusion  as  they  were  swept  along  in 
the  white  water,  Jim  felt  a  terrific  strain,  and  it  seemed 
to  him-that  the  rope  would  cut  him  in  sunder;  then  he 
was  seized  by  a  dozen  strong  arms  and  carried  high  and 
dry  before  the  next  wave  could  reach  him.  For  a  minute 
or  two  he  was  scarce  conscious ;  the  breath-  had  J>een 
almost  knocked  out  of  his  body  with  the  break  of  the 
wave,  and  the  rushing  water  seemed  still  singi]^  in  his 
cars.  -C 

"  Are  you  hurt,  my  boy?  are  you  hurt,  James?  "were 
the  first  words  he  clearly  heard.  % 

"  No,  I  think  I  am  all  right,"  he  said,  trying  to  sit  up. 
"  Is  the  other  fellow  all  right?  " 

**  He  has  broken  his  arm,"  one  of  the  fishermen  who 
had  just  helped  the  man  to  his  feet  replied;  "  he  may  be' 
thankful  it's  no  worse." 

James  was  now  helped  to  bis  feet 


-  I  'I'rt  rtfifcl  ■■■'■'■'■* 


iif-  "  *■"  ' 


A  STORM. 


9« 


"  I  am  all  right/*  he  repeated  to  Mr.  Wilks,  "  except 
that  I  feel  as  if  I  had  a  hot  iron  round  my  body.  That 
rope  has  taken  the  skin  off  all  round  me,  I  fancy,  and 
doesn't  it  smart  just  with  the  salt  water!  " 

"  Oh,  James,  how  could  you  do  it? "  a  girl's  voice 
said  suddenly.  The  fishermen  drew  aside,  and  Aggie 
Linthorne  pressed  forward. 

The  squire  had  gone  into  her  schoolroom  and  had 
said,  "  Mrs.  Walsham,  I  think  you  had  better  give  up 
your  lessons  for  the  morning  and  get  home ;  it  is  blowing 
a  gale  now,  and  we  shall  probably  have  the  rain  down 
before  long.  I  will  walk  down  with  you.  The  wii^d  is 
dead  on  the  shore,  and  it  will  be  a  grand  sight." 

Aggie  at  once  set  her  mind  on  going  too;  out  the 
squire  refused  until  Mrs.  Walsham  suggested  that  if  it 
came  on  wet  Aggie  could  stop  at  her  house  until  it 
cleared  up,  or,  if  necessary,  till  morning.  Whereupon 
the  squire  had  given  way,  and  the  three  had  started 
together  for  Sidmouth,  leaving  Mrs.  Walsham  at  her 
house  as  they  passed.  The  others  had  struggled  down 
against  the  wind  until  they  came  within  sight  of  the  sea. 
The  first  boat  had  just  been  run  safely  on  shore  when 
they  arrived,  and  Aggie  gav^  a  cry  and  put  her  hands 
over  her  face  as  the  second  boat   \'as  seen  to  capsize. 

"  Cling  to  me,  Aggie,"  the  squire  said^  "  See,  they 
are  rushing  in  the  water  to  save  them;  they  will  have 
them  yet!" 

At  the  cheer  which  broke  out  from  the  spectators, 
clustering  thickly  now,  as  the  first  of  the  rhipwrecked 
crew  was  brought  to  shore,  Aggie  looked  out  again.  It 
was  a  sight  she  never  forgot;  with  the  great  waves 
crashing  down  on  the  shore,  *and  the  line  of  straggling 
figures  waist  deep  in  the  white  foam,  in  which  were  scat- 
tered here  and  there  portions  of  the  boat,  oars,  sails,  and 
nets. 

"Well  done!  well  done!"  the  squire  exclaimed. 
"  They  have  dragged  up  three  of  them.  I  don't  know 
whether  there  are  any  more." 

'*  YeS;  )res;  look! "  Ag^e  cried;  "  tlxere,  out  i»  tbp 


'■■ISM 


9a 


WITH   WOLFE  IN   CANADA. 


waves — there,  I  can  see  a  head.  That's  just  about  where 
I  was  nearly  drowned.  Ph,  grandpapa,  take  me  away 
— I  can't  look  at  it." 

"There's  someone  going  out  to  save  him,  Aggie; 
listen  to  the  cheer." 

^  Aggie  looked  again.  "  Oh,  grandpapa,  stop  him! 
slop  him!"  she  cried;  "it's  James."  But  at  the  same 
moment  the  plunge  was  made  and  the  figure  lost  to 
sight. 

Aggie  threw  her  arms  around  her  grandfather  and  hid 
her  face. 

"  I  cjn't  look,  I  can't  look! "  she  cried;  "  tell  me  about 
4t." 

"There,  he  is  up;  bravo!"  the  squire  exclaimed, 
almost  as  excited  as  she  was ;  "  he  has  dived  again, 
dear  " — ^then,  after  a  pause — "  there  he  is  close  to  him; 
he  has  got  him,  Aggie!  Now  he  is  waving  his  hand; 
now  they  are  tightening  the  rope;  now  he  is  waving  his 
hand  again  and  they  are  waiting.    There!  " 

There  was  a  pause  which  seemed  to  the  g^rl  to  be  end- 
less ;  then  the  squire  cried : 

"  They  have  got  them  out,  both  of  them! "  and  a  loud 
cheer  broke  from  all  standing  around. 

"  Come  along,  grandpapa;  let  us  go  down  to  them." 

"  Stay  a  moment,  my  dear,  they  may  be  hurt;  it's 
better  you  should  not  go." 

The  girl  stood  with  her  hands  clasped,  gazing  at  the 
fishermen  grouped  on  the  shore  stooping  over  the  pros- 
trate figures;  then  one  of  them  stood  up  and  waved  his 
hand,  and  the  soectators  knew  that  all  was  well.  Then 
the  girl  ran  down  to  join  them. 

"  Why,  Aggie!  "  James  exclaimed  in  astonishment,  as 
she  pressed  forward;  "why,  my  dear,  what  brings  you 
here  in  this  storm?    Whatever  will  the  squire  say?  " 

"  The  squire  has  brought  her  down  himself,"  Mr.  Lin- 
thome  said,  following  closely  behind  his  granddaughter; 
"  and  he  is  glad  he  did,  James,  for  she  has  seen  a  grand 
sight.  You  are  a  fine  fellow;"  and  he  wrung  the  lad's 
tend*    "  A  grand  fellow,  Wilks,  is^'t  be?  " 


A  ^rotivt. 


9i 


m 


"I  always  said  so,  squire,"  the  old  soldier  said,  his 
face  beaming  with  satisfaction;  "  but  now  let  us  get  him 
home,  an,d  Aggie,  too—the  child  will  be  blown  away." 
But  for  a  minute  or  two  they  could  not  carry  James  oflF, 
so  closely  did  the  men  and  women  press  around  him 
and  shake  him  by  the  hand.  At  last  they  got  him  away, 
and,  escorted  by  a  crowd  of  cheering  boys,  led  him 
back  to  his  mother's. 

"Your  son  is  a  hero,  Mrs.  Walsham!"  the  squire 
exclaimed  as  they  entered;  "  but  don't  talk  to  him  now, 
but  mix  a  glass  of  hot  grog.  Wilks,  you  get  him 
between  the  blankets  directly.  I  will  tell  his  mother  all 
about  it  while  she  is  mixing  the  grog.  Hallo,  Aggie! 
why,  bless  the  child,  she's  fainted." 

The  girl  had  borne  up  till  they  reached  the  house, 
toward  which  the  wind  had  blown  her  along  as  she  clung 
to  her  grandfather's  arm;  but  the  excitement  had  been 
too  much  for  her,  and  the  instant  they  entered  the  room 
she  had  dropped  into  ''n  armchair  and  at  once  lost 
consciousness. 

Mrs.  Walsham  kept  her  presence  of  mind  in  spite  of 
her  bewilderment  at  these  sudden  occurrences.  She  at 
once  laid  the  girl  on  the  sofa,  removed  her  dripping 
bonnet  and  cloak,  and  poured  a  few  drops  of  brandy 
between  her  lips,  while  she  set  the  squire  to  work  to 
chafe  her  hands.  Aggie  soon  opened  her  eyes  and  re- 
covered her  consciousness. 

"  Don't  try  to  get  up,  Aggie,"  Mrs.  Walsham  said. 
"  You  are  faint  and  shaken  with  all  this  excitement. 
Your  grandpapa  and  I  were  two  very  foolish  people  to 
let  you  come  out.  Now,  Mr.  Wilks,  the  best  thing  you 
can  do  is  to  find  a  boy  outside,  and  send  him  up  to  the 
Hall  with  a  message  that  the  carriage  is  to  come  dovm 
directly.  I  think,  Mr.  Linthome,  she  had  better  get 
back  home.  I  should  be  glad  enough,  as  you  know, 
to  keep  her  here  for  the  night ;  but  this  house  is  rocking 
with  the  wind  now,  and  she  would  not  be  likely  to  get 
any  sleep  here.  I  will  run  up  and  see  how  James  is,  and 
if  he  is  all  right  I  will  come  up  with  her  and  stop  the 


94 


With  wolf*:  ii*  dAKADA. 


night.  She  is  very  much  shaken,  and  had  better  not  be 
alone." 

Mrs.  Walsham  soon  came  downstairs  again  and  said 
that  James  said  he  never  felt  better  in  liis  life,  and  that 
by  all  means  she  was  to  go  up  to  the  Hall.  She  then 
set  about  and  prepared  a  cup  of  tea,  which  greatly 
restored  Aggie,  and  by  the  time  the  carriage  arrived 
the  girl  was  able  to  walk  to  the  gate. 

Mr.  Wilks  had  offered  to  remain  with  James,  but  the 
latter  would  not  hear  of  it.  The  lad  was  indeed  well 
pleased  to  hear  that  they  were  all  going  up  to  the  Hall, 
as  thereby  he  escaped  hearing  any  more  of  his  own 
praises.  Besides,  he  was  most  anxious  to  get  down  to 
the  beach  again,  for  no  one  could  say  what  might  take 
place  there  before  morning. 

As  soon,  therefore,  as  he  heard  the  door  close  he 
jumped  out  of  bed,  and  wlen,  peeping  through  the 
blinds,  he  saw  the  carriage  drive  off  with  its  four  occu- 
pants, he  at  once  began  to  dress.  He  felt  bruised  and 
sore  from  the  blows  he  had  received,  and  a  red  wheal 
around  his  chest  beneath  the  arms  showed  where  the 
rope  had  almost  cut  into  the  flesh.  However,  he  soon 
dressed  himself  and  descen.ded  the  sta!rs,  went  into  the 
kitchen,  and  told  the  astonished  girl  that  he  was  going 
out.  Then,  having  made  a  hasty  meal  of  bread  and  cold 
meat,  he  put  on  his  oilskins  again  and  started  for  the 
shore. 

He  did  not,  however,  wait  long.  So  heavy  was  the 
sea  now  that  nothing  whatever  could  be  done  should  any 
vessel  drive  ashore,  and,  as  for  the  fisher-boats,  the 
sailors  shook  their  heads  as  they  spoke  of  them.  "  They 
were  farther  away  to  the  west,  so  the  chaps  as  got  ashore 
tells  us;  they  may  have  got  in  somewhere  before  it  got 
to  the  worst.  If  not,  it  must  have  gone  hard  with 
them."  Finding  that  there  was  nothing  to  be  dene,  and 
that  he  was  much  more  stiff  and  bruised  than  he  had 
believed,  Jim  made  his  way  back  again  and  turned  into 
bed,  where  he  soon  fell  asleep  and  did  not  wake  until 
the  following  morning. 


WWP^ 


A  STOKir. 


9S 


One  of  the  grooms  had  come  down  from  the  Hall  at 
six  o'clock  to  inquire  how  he  was,  and  the  message  given 
by  the  girl  that  he  had  been  out,  but  that  he  had  come 
back  and  was  now  sound  asleep,  satisfied  Mrs.  Walsham, 
and  enabled  her  to  devote  her  undivided  attention  to  her 
charge,  who  needed  her  care  more  than  her  son.  Before 
night,  indeed,  the  squire  had  sent  down  lo  Sidmouth  for 
Dr.  Walsham's  successor,  who  said  that  Aggie  was  very 
feverish  and  must  be  kept  perfectly  quiet  for  some  days. 
He  sent  her  up  a  soothing  draught,  and  Mrs.  Walsham 
sat  up  with  her  all  night.  She  slept  but  little,  and  talked 
almost  incessantly,  sometimes  rambling  a  little. 

The  flrst  thing  in  the  morning  the  doctor  was  again 
sent  for,  and  on  his  recommendation  the  squire  at  once 
sent  off  a  man  on  horseback  to  Exeter  for  the  leading 
physician  of  that  town.  When  he  arrived,  late  in  the 
afternoon,  Aggie  was  somewhat  quieter  and  his  report 
was  more  cheering. 

"  Her  pulse  is  very  high,"  he  said;  "  but  Mr.  Langford 
tells  me  that  it  is  not  so  rapid  as  it  was  in  the  morning, 
and  that  he  thinks  the  symptoms  are  abating.  Undoubt- 
edly it  is  a  sharp  feverish  attack  brought  on  by  excite- 
ment and  exposure.  A  very  little  more  and  it  would 
have  been  a  case  of  brain  fever,  but  I. trust  now  that  it 
will  soon  pass  oflF.  The  sedatives  that  have  been  ad- 
ministered are  taking  effect,  and  I  trust  she  will  soon 
fall  asleep.  As  you  requested,  I  have  made  my  arrange- 
ments for  staying  here  to-night,  and  I  trust  that  by  the 
morning  we  shall  have  her  convalescent." 

Mr.  Wilks  had  gone  down  the  first  thing  in  the  morn- 
ing to  see  James,  and  found  him  up  and  about  as  usual. 
He  was  very  greatly  concerned  at  hearing  that  Aggie 
had  passed  a  bad  night,  and  came  four  times  up  to  the 
Hall  during  the  day  to  inquire  about  her;  and  on  his  last 
visit,  late  in  the  evening,  he  was  told  that  she  was  sleep- 
ing quietly,  and  that  the  doctor  had  every  hope  that  she 
would  wake  in  the  morning  free  from  fever.  This 
proved  to  be  the  case;  but  she  was  ordered  to  keep  her 
bed  foi*  a  day  or  two. 


\ 


96 


WitH  WOLFt  tU  CANADA. 


0\i  the  morning  after  the  storm  the  wind  had  gaiie 
down  much,  although  a  tremendous  sea  was  still  break- 
ing on  the  shore.  Messages  arrived  in  the  course  of 
the  day  to  say  that  all  the  missing  boats,  with  one  excep- 
tion, had  succeeded  in  gaining  the  shore  before  the  storm 
was  full  on.  The  missing  boat  was  never  heard  of 
again. 

Two  days  later  James  Walsham  had  strolled  up  the 
hill  to  the  east  of  the  town,  and  was  lying  with  a  book 
before  him  in  a  favorite  nook  of  his  looking  over  the  sea. 
It  was  one  of  the  lovely  days  which  sometimes  come  late 
in  autumn,  as  if  the  summer  were  determined  to  show 
itself  at  its  best  before  leaving.  It  could  not  be  said 
that  James  was  studying,  for  he  was  watching  the  vessels 
passing  far  out  at  sea,  and  inwardly  moaning  over  the 
fact  that  he  was  destined  for  a  profession  for  which  he 
had  no  real  liking,  instead  of  being  free  to  choose  one  of 
travel  and  adventure. 

Presently  he  heard  voices  behind  him.  The  position 
in  which  he  was  lying  was  a  little  distance  down  on  the 
slopes  on  the  seaward  side  of  the  path,  and  as  a  screen  of 
bushes  grew  behind  it  he  could  not  be  seen  by  anyone 
passing  along. 

"  All  the  men  with  their  pistols  and  cutlasses  are  to 
assemble  here  at  ten  o'clock  to-night,  Johnson,  but  do 
not  give  them  orders  too  late,  and  let  them  come  up  one 
by  one  so  as  not  to  attract  attention.  Lipscombe's  men 
are  to  assemble  at  the  same  hour  and  march  to  Rieet  us. 
This  time,  I  think,  there  is  no  mistake.  The  cargo  is  to 
be  landed  where  I  told  you.  It  will  be  high  tide  at 
twelve  o'clock,  and  they  are  sure  to  choose  that  hour, 
so  that  the  cutter  can  run  close  in.  I  have  sent  off  a 
man  on  horseback  to  Weymouth  for  the  revenue  cutter 
to  come  round.  If  she's  in  time  we  shall  catch  that 
troublesome  lugger  as  well  as  her  cargo.  She  has-been 
a  thorn  in  our  side  for  the  last  year.  This  time  I  do 
hc^e  we  shall  have  her." 

'  The  speakers  then  moved  on  out  of  hearing,  but  James 


aamsa 


■*■(•• 


A  STORM. 


97 


Walsham  recognized  the  voice  as  that  of  the  revenue 
officer  commanding  the  force  at  Sidmouth. 

Smuggling  was  at  that  time  carried  on  on  a  large  scaU 
along  the  coast,  and  there  were  frequent  collisions 
between  those  engaged  in  it  and  the  revenue  officers. 
The  sympathies  of  the  population  were  wholly  with  the 
smugglers,  and  the  cheating  of  the  revenue  was  not  at 
all  considered  in  the  light  ofa  crime.  Many  of  the  fish- 
ermen from  time  to  time  took  a  hand  in  smuggling 
cruises,  and  the  country  people  were  always  ready  to 
lend  «issistance  in  landing  and  carrying  the  cargoes. 

When  out  in  their  boats  at  night  James  had  often 
heard  the  fishermen  tell  stories  of  their  smuggling  adven- 
tures, and  more  than  once  he  had  been  with  them  when 
they  had  boarded  a  lugger  laden  with  contraband,  to 
warn  them  that  the  revenue  cutter  was  on  the  cruising 
ground,  and  it  would  not  be  safe  to  attempt  to  run  cargo 
at  present.  He  now  determined  at  once  that  he  would 
warn  the  smugglers  of  their  danger.  The  question  was, 
Where  was  the  cargo  to  be  run?  The  officer  had  ndt 
mentioned  the  spot,  but  as  the  force  from  the  next  station 
to  the  east  was  to  co-operate^  it  must  be  somewhere 
between  the  two. 

Waiting  till  the  speakers  must  have  gone  well  along 
the  cliflF,  he  rose  to  his  feet  and  returned  to  Sidmouth. 
He  thought  at  first  of  telling  some  of  the  fishermen  what 
he  had  heard,  but  as,  in  the  event  of  an  affray,  it  might 
come  out  how  the  smugglers  had  been  warned  of  the 
intention  of  the  revenue  officers,  he  thought  there  would 
be  less  risk  in  giving  them  warning  himself.  He  knew 
every  path  down  the  cliff  for  miles,  and  trusted  that  he 
should  be  able  to  make  his  way  down  and  give  the  boats 
notice  of  their  danger  before  the  revenue  men  reached 
the  shore. 

At  nine  o'clock  he  dressed  himself  in  the  rough  sailor's 
suit  he  wore  when  he  went  out  with  the  fishermen,  and 
started  along  the  cliff.  For  some  distance  he  kept  well 
iuland,  as  th?  ofgcer  might  have  placed  ?i  piap  Pi)  tbc 


98 


WITH   WOLFE   IN   CANADA. 


lookout  to  Stop  anyone  going  toward  the  scene  of  action. 
The  spot  he  thought  the  most  likely  was  a  mile  and  a 
half  along  the  shore.  There  was  a  good  landing  place, 
and  an  easy  path  up  the  cliflf,  and  he  knew  that  cargoes 
had  been  more  than  once  run  here.  Accordingly,  when 
he  reached  this  spot  he  sat  down  among  some  bushes 
on  the  edge  of  the  cliff,  and  waited  for  some  sort  of 
signal.  Half  an  hour  later  he  heard  the  tramp  of  a  num- 
ber of  men  passing  along  behind  him. 

"  There  go  the  revenue  men,"  he  thought  to  himself. 
"  I  suppose  they  are  -^roing  to  meet  those  coming  the 
other  way.'*  .  '        ■ 

An  hour  pasL-*d  without  further  sound,  and  James 
began  to  get  uneasy.  If  this  was  the  spot  fixed  for  the 
landing,  some  of  the  country  people  ought  to  be  arriving 
by  this  time  to  help  to  carry  off  the  cargo.  They  might, 
for  aught  he  knew,  be  already  near,  waiting  for  the  signal 
before  they  descended  the  path.  No  doubt  the  revenue 
m^n  would  be  lying  in  wait  a  short  distance  off,  and 
would  allow  the  friends  of  the  smuggler  to  go  down 
to  the  water  without  letting  them  know  of  their 
presence.  ^ 

He  kept  his  eyes  fixed  on  the  water  to  the  east,  watch- 
ing anxiously  for  the  appearance  of  a  light.  Presently 
he  started.  Immediately  in  front  of  him,  about  a  mile 
at  sea,  p  bright  light  was  shown.  In  a  second  it  dis- 
appearei.  Three  times  it  flashed  out,  and  then  all  was 
dark.  The  night  was  a  very  dark  one.  There  was  no 
moon,  and  the  stars  were  obscured,  and,  although  he 
strained  his  eyes  to  the  utmost,  he  could  not  make  out 
the  vessel  from  which  the  light  had  been  shown. 

"  How  foolish  to  show  such  a  bright  light! "  he  saia 
to  himself.  "  It  would  have  been  almost  sure  to  attract 
the  attention  of  anyone  on  the  watch." 

He  made  his  way  to  the  path  and  descended  to  the 
edge  of  the  water,  and  waited,  expecting  momentarily 
to  be  joined  by  people  from  above.  But  no  one  crme. 
He  strained  his  ears  listening  for  the  fall  of  approaching 
oars;  but  all  was  silent. 


A   STORM. 


99 


Half  an  hour  passed,  and  thea  it  flashed  across  him 
that  the  signal  must  have  been  made  to  deceive  the 
revenue  men  and  to  cause  them  to  assemble  at  that  spot, 
and  so  leave  the  point  really  determined  upon  free  for 
operations. 

With  an  exclamation  of  disgust  at  his  own  stupidity 
in  having  been  deceived,  James  ran  up  the  path  again  at 
the  top  of  his  speed,  and  then  took  the  road  along  the 
cliff.  For  two  miles  he  ran  without  interruption,  and 
then  saw  a  dark  mass  in  front  of  him.  He  turned  off 
instantly  to  the  left,  Doubtless  he  had  been  heard 
approaching,  for  two  or  three  men  detached  themselves 
from  the  rest,  and  started  to  cut  him  off.  James  ran 
straight  inland,  and  in  the  darkness  soon  lost  sight  of 
his  pursuers.  Then  he  turned  and  made  for  the  cliff 
again.  Two  or  three  hundred  yards  farther  along  there 
was  another  path  to  the  shore,  and  this  he  had  no  doubt 
now  was  the  one  the  smugglers  were  about  to  use.  He 
struck  the  cliff  within  a  few  yards  of  the  spot.  In  an 
instant  two  men  jumped  up  and  seized  him. 

"Who  are  you?" 

For  an  instant  James  thought  that  his  assailants  were 
revenue  men,  but  even  in  the  darkness  he  saw  that  they 
were  countrymen. 

"  Quick !  "  he  said.  "  The  revenue  men  are  close  at 
hand.  They  are  watching  two  or  three  hundred  yards 
along.     Listen!     Here  they  come." 

A  trampling  of  feet  coming  rapidly  along  the  cliff  was 
clearly  heard,  and  the  men  with  an  oath  released  their 
hold  and  ran  off,  giving  a  loud  whistle,  and  made  for  « 
their  carts,  which  were  stationed  a  few  hundred  yards 
inland.  James  dashed  down  the  path,  shouting  at  the 
top  of  his  voice.  He  had  not  gone  many  yards  before  he 
met  a  number  of  men  coming  up  with  tubs  of  spirits  on 
their  shoulders. 

"  Throw  them  down,"  he  cried,  "  and  make  along  the 
shore.    The  revenue  men  are  close  behind." 

His  advice  was  taken  at  once.  The  tubs  were  thrown 
down,  and  went  leaping  and  bounding  down  to  the  shore, 


100 


WITH   WOLFE  IN  CANADA. 


while  the  men  followed  James  at  full  speed  down  the 
path. 

Their  pursuers  were  close  behind.  There  was  no 
longer  any  use  in  concealment.  Their  officer  shouted  to 
them  to  press  forward  at  full  speed,  while  from  the  beach 
belo^y  a  hubbub  of  voices  suddenly  broke  out,  an4  at 
the  same  moment  a  blue  light  was  lit  on  the  cliff  above. 

"  Beat  them  back,  my  lads! "  one  of  the  smugglers  was 
shouting  as  James  ran  down  to  the  little  crowd  of  men 
standing  near  two  boats;  "we  are  five  to  one  against 
them;  come  on!  "  ^ 

"Surrender  in  the  king's  name!"  the  revenue  officer 
shouted,  as  he  rushed  forward,  followed  by  his  men. 

The  answer  was  a  pistol-shot,  and  in  a  moment  a  furi- 
ous melee  began.  The  advantage  in  numbers  was  all  on 
the  side  of  the  smugglers.  Those  who  had  landed  with 
the  kegs  were  all  armed  with  pistol  and  cutlass,  and  the 
countrymen  had  heavy  pricks  and  bludgeons.  The  ten 
revenue  men  would  have  been  overpowered,  but  sud- 
denly a  shout  was  heard,  and  another  party  of  sailors  ran 
up  along  the  shore  and  joined  in  the  fray.  It  was  the 
detachment  from  the  other  station,  which  had  been  wait- 
ing at  some  little  distance  along  the  shore  for  the  signal 
from  above. 

"To  the  boats,  lads!"  the  leader  of  the  smugglers 
shouted;  "  we  are  cr.ught  in  a  trap." 

The  smugglers  rushed  to  the  boats,  and  James,  who 
was  standing  by  the  water's  edge,  leaped  on  board  with 
them.  Most  of  the  country  people  fled  at  once  along  the 
shore,  pursued  by  some  of  the  revenue  men,  while  the 
others  made  a  rush  for  the  boats.  These  had  been  kept 
afloat  a  few  yards  from  the  shore.  Grapnels  had  been 
dropped  over  their  sterns,  and  as  the  men  in  charge 
hauled  out  the  moment  the  fight  began,  they  were  in 
water  shoulder  deep  when  the  smugglers  scrambled  on 
board. 

The  revenue  men  dashed  in  after  them  and  strove  to 
hold  the  boats;  but  they  were  beaten  off  with  oars  and 
cutlasses,  and  the  boats  were  soon  hauled  out  into  deep 


)»RESSED. 


lOf 


water.  The  grapnels  were  lifted,  and  the  men,  many  of 
whom  were  wounded  more  or  less  severely  in  the  fray, 
got  out  their  oars  and  pulled  io  the  lugger  amid  a  drop- 
ping fire  of  pistol-shots  from  shore. 


CHAPTER  VII. 


PRESSED. 

Many  and  deep  were  the  maledictions  uttered  as  the 
smugglers  climbed  on  board  their  vessel;  but  their  cap- ' 
tain  said  cheerily: 

"  Never  mind,  lads,  it  might  have  been  worse;  it  was 
only  the  first  cargo  of  tubs,  and  half  of  tho^^e  weren't 
ashore;  the  lace  and  silk  are  all  right,  so  no  great  harm 
is  done.  Set  to  work  and  get  up  sail  as  soon  as  you  can ; 
likely  enough  there  is  a  cutter  in  the  offing;  that  blue 
light  must  have  been  a  signal.  They  seem  to  have  got 
news  of  our  landing  somehow." 

The  crew  at  once  set  to  work  to  get  up  sail.  Three 
or  four  of  the  countrymen,  who  had,  like  James,  got  on 
board  the  boats,  stood  in  a  group  looking  on  confused 
and  helpless;  but  James  lent  his  assistance  until  the  sails 
were  hoisted  and  the  craft  began  to  move  through  the 
water. 

"  Now  then,"  the  captain  said,  "  let  us  go  below  and 
look  at  the  wounds;  we  daren't  show  a  light  here  on 
dtck." 

The  wounds  were  for  the  most  part  slashes  and  blows 
wnth  cutlasses,  for  in  the  darkness  and  confusion  of  the 
fight  only  two  of  the  bullets  had  taken  effect :  one  of  the 
smugglers  had  fallen  shot  through  the  head,  while  one 
of  those  on  board  had  his  arm  broken  by  a  pistol  ball. 
"  Now  for  our  passengers,"  the  captain  said,  after  the 
wounds  had  been  bandaged. 

"  Who  are  you?  "  and  he  lifted  a  lantern  to  James* 
face.  "  Why,  it  is  young  Mr.  Walsham! "  he  exclaimed 
in  surprise. 


S02 


WITH  WOLFE  lU  CANADA. 


James  knew  the  man  now,  for  the  lugger  had  several 
times  put  in  at  Sidmouth,  where,  coming  in  as  a  peace- 
able trader,  the  revenue  officers,  although  well' aware  of 
the  nature  of  her  vocation,  were  unable  to  touch  her,  as 
vessels  could  only  be  seized  when  they  had  contraband 
on  board. 

"  Why,  what  brings  you  into  this  affair,  young 
masttr?  " 

James  related  the  conversation  he  had  overheard,  and 
his  determination  to  warn  the  smugglers  of  their  danger. 

"  I  should  have  managed  it  in  plenty  of  time  if  I  had 
known  the  exact  spot  on  which  you  were  going  to  land ; 
but  I  saw  a  signal  light  two  miles  down  the  coast,  and 
that  kept  me  there  for  half  an  hour.  It  struck  me  then 
it  was  a  ruse  to  attract  the  officers  from  the  real  spot 
of  landing,  but  though  I  ran  as  hard  as  I  could  I  was 
only  just  before  them." 

"  Thank  you  heartily,"  the  smuggler  said.  "  I  expect 
you  saved  us  from  a  much  worse  mess  than  we  got  into. 
I  have  no  doubt  they  meant  to  capture  the  tubs  as  they 
were  loaded  without  raising  an  alarm,  and  the  fellows 
on  the  shore  would  have  come  up  quietly  and  taken  us 
by  surprise  as  we  were  landing  the  last  boat-loads. 
Thanks  to  you,  we  have  got  well  out  of  it,  and  have  only 
lost  one  of  our  hands  and  a  score  or  so  of  tubs." 

"  You  can't  put  me  ashore,  I  suppose?  "  James  said. 

"  That  I  can't,"  the  smuggler  replied.  "  I  have  no 
doubt  that  cutter  from  Weymouth  is  somewhere  outside 
us,  and  we  must  get  well  ofif  the  coast  before  morning. 
If  we  give  her  the  slip  I  will  send  you  off  in  a  boat  some 
time  to-morrow.  I  must  go  ashore  mystlf  to  make  fresh 
arrangements  for  getting  my  cargo  landed." 

James  went  on  deck  again.  The  breeze  was  light, 
and  the  lugger  was  slipping  along  quietly  through  the 
water.  He  could  faintly  see  the  loom  of  the  cliffs  on  his 
right,  and  knew  that  the  lugger  was  running  west,  keep- 
ing as  close  inshore  as  she  could  to  avoid  the  cutter 
watching  for  her  outside.  He  wondered  what  they 
would  say  at  home  when  it  was  found  that  he  was  miss- 


IViiMta 


PRESSED. 


103 


ing;  but  consoled  himself  by  thinking  that  his  mother, 
who  was  still  at  the  Hall,  would  no  doubt  suppose  that 
he  had  gone  out  for  a  night's  fishing,  as  he  had  often 
done  before,  and  that  as  she  was  away  he  had  forgotten 
to  leave  word  with  the  servant. 

Suddenly  a  blue  light  burned  out  on  the  top  of  the 
cliff. 

An  angry  exclamation  broke  from  the  captain,  who 
was  standing  at  the  helm. 

"Confound  it!"  h§L  exclaimed;  "they  have  caught 
sight  of  us  from  the  cliff,  and  are  signaling  our  where- 
abouts to  the  cutter." 

As  he  spoke  he  turned  the  vessel's  head  seaward,  and 
for  a  quarter  of  an  hour  sailed  straight  out. 

"  Now,"  he  said  quietly,  "  I  think  we  must  be  out  of 
sight  of  those  fellows  on  shore.  Get  her  on  the  other 
tack,  lads,  but  be  as  quiet  as  you  can  about  it;  there's 
no  saying  how  close  the  cutter  may  be  to  us." 

The  great  sails  were  lowered  as  the  boat's  head  paid 
off  to  the  east.  The  yards  were  shifted  to  the  other 
sides  of  the  masts,  and  the  sails  hoisted  again,  and  the 
lugger  began  to  retrace  her  way  back  along  the  coast. 

"  It's  just  a  chance  now,"  the  captain  said  to  James, 
who  was  standing  ^lose  by  him,  "  whether  the  com- 
mander of  the  cutter  guesses  or  not  that  we  shall  change 
our  course;  he  will  know  we  are  likely  enough  to 
do  it." 

"  What  should  you  do  if  you  were  in  his  place? " 
James  said. 

"  I  should  run  straight  out  to  sea  and  lay  to  eight  or 
ten  miles  off;  he  would  be  able  to  make  us  out  then  at 
daylight  whichever  course  we  take,  whereas,  by  trying 
to  follow  in  the  dark  he  would  run  the  chance  of  miss- 
ing us  altogether.  I  wish  the  wind  would  get  up  a  bit; 
we  are  not  moving  through  the  water  more  than  three 
knots  an  hour,  and  it's  dying  away.  However,  I  fancy 
it  will  blow  up  again  in  the  morning." 

"  Do  you  know  whether  she  is  faster  than  you  are? " 
James  asked.  ^ 


104 


WITH  WOLFE  IN  CAtfADA. 


"There  is  not  much  difference,"  the  captain  replied. 
"  If  the  wind  43  strong  we  have  the  legs  of  her,  but  in  a 
light  breeze  she  is  the  fastest.  She  has  chased  us  half 
a  dozen  times  already,  but  we  have  always  given  her  the 
slip." 

"  Then,  even  if  she  does  run  out  to  sea  as  you  say,*' 
James  said,  **  we  ought  to  be  safe,  as  we  should  be  a 
dozen  miles  or  so  along  the  coast." 

"  Yes,  but  not  that  ahead  of  her,"  the  captain  an- 
swered, "  for  she  would  be  so  much  to  the  seaward,  still 
that  would  be  far  enough ;  but  she  will  begin  to  fire  long 
before  we  are  in  range,  and  will  bnng  any  other  king's 
ship  within  hearing  down  on  us.  However,  I  dare  say 
we  will  give  her  the  slip  as  we  have  done  before." 

The  hours  passed  slowly.  The  wind  continued  to 
drop  until  the  vessel  scarcely  moved  through  the  water, 
and  after  a  while  the  sweeps  were  got  out  and  were 
worked  until  the  day  broke.  All  eyes  were  on  the  look- 
out for  the  cutter  as  the  day-dawn  began  to  steal  over 
the  sky. 

"There  she  is,  sure  enough,"  the  captain  exclaimed 
at  length,  "  lying  to  on  the  watch  some  eight  miles  to 
the  west.  She  must  have  seen  us,  for  we  are  against 
the  light  sky;  but  like  ourselves  she  is  becalmed;" 

It  was  a  quarter  of  an  hour,  however,  before  the  posi- 
tion of  the  cutter  was  seen  to  change;  then  her  head 
was  suddenly  turned  east. 

"She  has  got  the  wind,"  the  captain  said;  "now  we 
only  want  a  good  breeze  and  you'll  have  a  lively  day  of 
it,  lads." 

From  the  time  when  she  had  turned  the  lugger  had 
made  only  about  eight  miles  along  the  coast  to  the  east, 
and  an  equal  distance  seaward,  for  the  tide  had  set 
against  her. 

The  morning  was  bright  and  clear,  the  sea  was  per- 
fectly smooth ;  as  yet  the  sails  hung  idly  down,  but  there 
were  dark  lines  on  the  water  that  showed  that  a  breeze 
was  coming. 

"  We  shall  have  plenty  of  wind  presently,"  the  skipper 


sHbbMBHHHKHH 


l^klilSS£t>. 


tos 


said.  "See  how  light  the  sky  is  fo  the  south;  there 
will  be  white  tops  on  the  waves  in  an  hour  or  two. 
Here  comes  a  flaw.  Haul  in  your  sheets,  lads^— now 
she  begins  to  move." 

The  puflf  did  not  last  long,  dying  away  to  nothing  in 
a  few  minutes,  and  then  the  lugger  lay  immovable  again. 
The  men  whistled,  stamped  the  deck  impatiently,  and 
cast  anxious  glances  back  at  the  cutter. 

"  She  is  walking  along  fast,"  the  skipper  said,  as  he 
examined  ,her  through  a  glass.  "  She  has  got  the  wind 
steady  and  must  be  slipping  along  at  six  knots  an  hour. 
This  is  hard  luck  on  us.  If  we  don't  get  the  breeze  soon 
it  will  be  a  close  thing  of  it." 

Another  quarter  of  an  hour  passed  without  a  breath  of 
wind  ruffling  the  water.  The  cutter  was  fully  two  miles 
nearer  to  them  than  when  she  had  first  been  seen,  and 
was  holding  the  wind  steadily. 

"  Here  it  comes,  lads,"  the  skipper  said  cheerfully. 
"  Another  ten  minutes  and  we  shall  have  our  share." 

The  time  seemed  long  indeed  before  the  dark  line  on 
the  water  reached  the  lugger,  and  there  was  something 
like  a  cheer  from  the  crew  as  the  craft  heeled  slightly 
over  and  then  began  to  move  through  the  water.  It 
v/as.  the  true  breeze  this  time,  and  increased  every 
moment  m  force  till  the  lugger  was  lying  well  over  with 
a  white  wave  at  her  bow. 

But  the  cutter  had  first  gained  by  the  freshening 
breeze,  and  James  Walsham,  looking  back  at  her, 
judged  that  there  were  not  more  than  four  miles  of 
water  between  the  boats.  The  breeze  was  nearly  due 
west,  and  as  the  lugger  was  headed  as  close  as  she  would 
lie  to  it  the  cutter  had  hauled  in  her  sheets  and  lay  up 
on  the  same  course,  so  that  they  were  now  sailing  almost 
parallel  to  each  other.* 

"  If  we  could  change  places,"  the  skipper  said,  "  we 
should  be  safe.  We  can  sail  nearer  the  wind  than  she 
can,  but  she  can  edge  away  now,  and  has  all  the  advan- 
tage of  us." 

James  had  already  perceived  this,  and  wondered  that 


!W 


106 


WITH  Wdtyi:  IM  CAtJADA. 


the  lugfger  did  not  pay  off  before  the  wind  so  as  to  make 
a  stern  chase  of  it. 

"  I*  want  to  get  a  few  miles  farther  out,"  the  skipper 
said.  "  Likely  enough  there  is  another  cutter  some- 
where inshore.  It  is  quite  enough  to  have  one  of  these 
fellows  at  one's  heels." 

Another  half-hour  and  the  cutter,  edging  in,  was 
little  over  three  miles  distant;  then  the  skipper  gave  the 
word,  the  helm  was  put  down,  the  sheets  slackened  off, 
and  in  a  minute  the  lugger  was  running  dead  before  the 
wind  with  her  sails  boom^ed  out  one  on  either  "side.  The 
cutter  followed  her  example,  and  hoisted  a  large  square 
sail.  The  wind  was  blowing  fresh  now,  and  the  sea  was 
getting  up.  Not  a  cloud  was  to  be  seen  in  the  sky,  and 
the  sun  shone  brightly  on  the  white  heads  which  were 
beginning  to  show  on  the  water.  The  lugger  was  tear- 
ing along,  occasionally  throwing  a  cloud  of  spray  over 
her  bows  and  leaving  a  track  of  white  water  behind  her. 

"  I  think  she  still  gains  on  us,"  the  captain  said  to  the 
mate,  who  had  taken  the  helm. 

"Ay,  she  is  gaining,"  the  sailor  agreed;  "but  the 
wind  is  freshening  every  minute.  She  can't  carry  that 
top-sail  much  longer.  It's  pressing  her  bows  under 
now," 

"  She  will  go  almost  as  fast  without  it,"  the  skipper 
said. 

The  commander  of  the  cutter  seemed  to  be  of  the 
same  opinion,  for  just  as  he  spoke  the  top-sail  was  seen 
to  flutter,  and  then  descended  to  the  deck.  It  was  a 
quarter  of  an  hour  before  the  skipper  spoke  again. 

"  I  think  we  just  about  hold  our  own,"  he  said, 
didn't  think  the  Polly  could  have  held  her  running.' 

"She  couldn't  in  a  light  wind,"  the  mate  replied; 
"  but  with  this  wind  it  will  want  a  fast  boat  to  beat  her." 

The  hands  were  now  set  to  work  shifting  the  kegs 
further  aft. 

" That's  better,"  the  skipper  said  presently.  "I  am 
sure  we  are  gaining  ground,  and  our  masts  will  stand 
it  if  the  cutte?s  will/ 


(( 


tt 


»» 


PRESSED. 


107 


With  her  stem  low  in  the  water  the  lugger  was  now 
tearing  along  at  a  tremendous  pace.  Stout  as  were  her 
masts  and  strong  the  stays,  James  'Walsham  wondered 
at  their  standing  the  strain  of  the  great  brown  sails,  as 
they  seemed  at  times  almost  to  lift  her  bodily  out  of  the 
water.  Buoyant  as  the  craft  was,  the  waves  broke  over 
her  bows  and  flooded  her  decks  and  sheets  of  spray  flew 
over  her. 

The  cutter  with  her  sharper  bows  and  all  her  sails 
forward  was  feeling  it  still  inore  severely,  and  the  spirits 
of  all  on  board  the  lugger  rose  rapidly,  as  it  was  evident 
that  they  were  dropping  their  pursuers.  Suddenly  the 
gaflf  of  the  cutter's  mainsail  was  seen  to  droop,  and  the 
boom  was  hauled  on  board. 

"  I  thought  it  would  be  too  much  for  them,"  the  skip- 
per said  exultantly.     "  They  are  going  to  reef." 

"We  had  better  reef  down  too,  I  think,"  the  mate 
said;  "  she  has  had  as  much  as  she  could  bear  for  some 
time." 

"  I'll  hold  on  ten  minutes  longer,"  the  skipper  said; 
"  every  half-mile  counts." 

But  before  that  time  was  up  the  sails  were  one  after 
another  reefed,  for  the  wind  continued  to  freshen.  The 
sky  was  still  cloudless,  but  there  was  a  misty  light  in  the 
air,  and  a  heavy  sea  was  beginning  to  run. 

Suddenly  a  gun  flashed  out  from  the  cutter.  The 
skipper  uttered  an  oathi.  Their  pursuer  was  more  than 
three  miles  astern,  and  he  knew  that  she  could  only  be 
firing  as  a  signal.  There  were  several  large  ships  in 
sight  on  their  way  up  or  down  the  Channel.  To  these 
little  attention  had  been  paid.  The  skipper  shaded  his 
eyes  with  a  hand  and  gazed  earnestly  at  a  large  ship  on 
the  weather  beam  some  four  miles  away. 

"That  is  a  frigate,  sure  enough,"  he  exclaimed. 
"We  are  fairly  caught  between  them.  Haul  in  the 
sheets,  lads;  we  will  have  a  try  for  it  yet." 

The  lugger  was  brought  sjharp  up  into  the  wind,  and 
was  soon  staggering  along  seaward  with  the  lee  bulwark 
almost  under  water.    The  cutter  instantly  lowered  her 


tod 


WITH   WOtFE   IN   CAilADA. 


squaresail  and  followed  her  example,  continuing  to  fire 
a  gun  every  minute.  All  eyes  were  turned  toward  the 
frigate,  which  was  now  on  the  port  beam. 

"  We  shall  cross  two  miles  to  windward  of  her,"  the 
skipper  said.  "  If  she  keeps  on  her  course  a  quarter  of 
an  hour  will  do  it,  but  she  is  sure  to  notice  the  guns. 
The  wind  will  take  them  down  to  her." 

"  Ah,  there  she  goes." 

As  he  spoke  a  puff  of  smoke  darted  out  from  the 
frigate's  bow.  Her  sails  fluttered  and  her  head  bore 
round  until  she  was  on  the  same  tack  as  the  lugger. 
The  latter  was  now  about  equidistant  from  her  two  pur- 
suers. The  cutter  and  the  lugger  were  nearly  abreast, 
but  the  former  being  to  windward  could  edge  down. 
The  frigate  was  three  miles  to  leeward,  but  she  was  fully 
a  mile  ahead. 

"  There  is  no  way  out  of  it,"  the  skipper  said  bitterly. 
"  In  a  light  wind  we  could  run  away  from  the  frigate, 
but  with  this  breeze  v/e  have  no  chance  with  her.  Look 
how  she  is  piling  on  sail !  " 

The  crew  shared  the  captain's  opinion;  some  shook 
their  fists  and  cursed  vainly  at  their  pursuers,  soro? 
stood  sullenly  scowimg,  while  the  French  portion  of  the 
crew  gave  way  to  wild  outbursts  of  rage.  Rapidly  the 
three  vessels  closed  in  toward  each  other,  for  the  cutter 
edged  in  so  rapidly  that  the  lugger  was  obliged  to  bear 
off  toward  the  frigate  again.  As  a  last  hope  the  lugger's 
course  was  changed,  and  she  again  tried  running,  but 
the  superior  weight  and  power  of  the  frigate  brought  her 
rapidly  down.  Presently  a  heavy  gun  boomed  out,  and 
a  shot  came  dancing  along  the  water  a  hundred  yards 
away. 

"  Lower  the  sails,"  the  skipper  said.  "  It  is  no  use 
going  farther.  The  inside  of  a  prison  is  better  than  the 
bottom  of  the  sea,  anyhow." 

Down  came  the  sails,  and  the  lugger  lay  rolling 
heavily  in  the  waves  as  the  frigate  bore  down  upon  her 
yrith  a  white  roll  of  water  on  her  stem. 

"  Get  read/j  lads/'  the  skipper  said.    "  Th^re  is  just 


PRESSED. 


109 


one  chance  yet.  She  will  run  by  us.  The  instant  she 
is  past,  up  sail  again.  We  shall  be  a  mile  away  before 
they  can  get  her  round  into  the  wind  again.  If  she 
doesn't  cripple  us  with  her  shot  we  may  weather  her  yet. 
We  needn't  mind  the  cutter." 

The  frigate  came  foaming  along,  the  crew  busy  in  tak- 
ing sail  off  her.  The  instant  sh ':  had  passed  and  was 
preparing  to  round  to,  the  sails  of  the  lugger  flew  up 
like  magic,  and  she  was  soon  tearing  along  almost  in 
the  eye  of  the  wind  as  if  to  meet  the  cutter,  which  was 
running  down  toward  her. 

, "  Down  below,  lads,  every  man  of  you,"  the  captain 
shouted;  "we  shall  have  a  broadside  in  a  minute." 

In  a  moment  the  deck  was  clear  of  all  save  the  skipper 
and  his  mate,  who  stood  at  the  tiller.  The  frigate  swept 
slowly  round,  and  then,  as  her  guns  came  to  bear,  shot 
after  shot  was  fired  at  the  lugger,  already  three-quarters 
of  a  mile  to  the  windward.  The  shot  hummed  over- 
head, one  struck  the  water  alongside  a  yard  or  two 
away,  but  still  she  was  untouched. 

"  Some  of  her  shots  went  as  near  the  cutter  as  they 
did  to  us,"  the  skipper  said.     "  She  won't  fire  again." 

They  were  now  fast  approaching  the  cutter,  which, 
when  she  was  within  a  quarter  of  a  mile,  changed  her 
course  and  was  brought  up  again  into  the  wind,  firing 
the  four  guns  she  carried  on  her  broadside  as  she  came 
round.  The  lugger's  head  was  paid  off  and  this  placed 
the  cutter  on  her  starboard  quarter,  both  going  free. 
The  former  was  traveling  the  faster,  but  a  gun  was  fired 
from  the  cutter's^bow,  and  the  shot  struck  splinters  from 
the  lugger's  quarter.  The  crew  were  on  deck  again 
now. 

"Train  that  gun  over  the  stern,"  the  skipper  said. 
"  If  we  can  knock  her  mast  out  of  her  we  are  saved;  if 
not,  they  will  have  us  yet." 

He  had  scarcely  spoken  when  there  was  a  crash:  a 
shot  from  the  cutter  had  struck  the  mizzen  mast  a  few 
feet  above  the  deck,  and  the  mast  and  sail  fell  over  lee- 
ward.   There  was  a  cry  of  rage  and  dismay, 


tio 


WITH  WOLFE  IN  CANADA. 


"Luck's  against  us,"  the  skipper  said  bitterly. 
"Down  with  the  sail,  lads;  this  time  it  is  all  up  with 
us."  The  sail  was  lowered,  and  the  lugger  lay  motion- 
less in  the*water  until  the  cutter  came  up  and  lay  within 
fifty  yards  of  her. 

A  boat  was  at  once  lowered,  and  an  officer  was  rowed 
*to  the  lugger. 

"  So  we  have  caught  you,  my  friends,  at  last,"  he  said 
as  he  sprang  on  board. 

"  You  wouldn't  have  done  it  if  it  had  not  been  for  the 
frigate,"  the  skipper  said. 

"  No;  I  will  say  your  craft  sails  like  a  witch,"  the 
officer  replied.  "  I  wish  we  could  have  done  it  without 
her.  It  will  make  all  the  difference  to  us;  the  frigate 
will  get  the  lion's  share  of  the  prize.  What  is  the  value 
of  your  cargo?" 

"  Two  hundred  kegs  of  brandy,"  the  skipper  replied, 
"  and  fifteen  hundred  pounds'  worth  of  lace  and  silks." 

"  A  good  prize,"  the  officer  said.  "  Not  your  own,  I 
hope,  for  you  have  made  a  brave  chape  of  it."         » 

"  No,"  the  skipper  answered.  "  Fortunately  I  only 
took  a  very  small  share  this  time;  it's  bad  enough  to 
lose  my  boat;  I  own  two-thirds  of  her." 
* "  I  am  sorry  for  you,"  the  officer  said,  for  he  was  in 
high  spirits  at  the  success  of  the  chase  and  could  afford 
to  be  pleasant.  "  Here  comes  a  boat  from  the  frigate. 
You  played  them  a  rare  trick,  and  might  have  got  off 
if  it  hadn't  been  for  that  lucky  shot  of  ours.  I  see  you 
were  just  getting  out  a  stern-chaser,"  and  he  pointed  to 
the  gun.  "  It  is  well  for  you  that  you  didn't  fire  it,  as 
you  can't  be  charged  with  armed- resistance." 

"  I  wish  I  had  fired  it,  for  all  that.  It  might  have 
been  my  luck  to  cripple  you." 

"  It  would  have  made  no  difference  if  you  had,"  the 
officer  replied.  "The  frigate  would  have  overhauled 
you;  with  this  wind  she  would  sail  five  feet  to  your 
four."  ^ 

The  boat  from  the  frigate  now  came  alongside. 

"How  are  you,  Cotterel?"  the  officer  said,  as  he 


mmt 


FRI88ED. 


Ill 


i> 


Stepped  on  board.    "That  was  a  lucky  shot  of  yours; 

but  I  think  it's  lucky  for  the  lugger  that  vou  hit  her,  for 

the  captain  was  so   avage  at  that  trick  they  played  him 

that  I  believe  he  would  have  sunk  her  when  he  came  up 

to  her  again.    I  heard  him  say  to  the  first  lieutenant, 

*  I  won't  give  her  a  chance  tp  play  me  such  a  trick 

•    > »» 
agam. 

"  What  orders  have  you  brought?  **  the  other  asked. 

"  We  are  outward  bound,  so  you  are  to  put  a  crew  on 
board  and  take  her  into  port;  but  as  we  are  very  short 
of  hands  we  will  relieve  you  of  the  prisoners." 

All  on  board  the  lugger  were  at  once  ordered  into 
the  frigate's  boat  and  were  rowed  off  to  the  ship.  On 
gaining  the  deck  they  were  drawn  up  in  line,  and  the 
captain  and  first  lieutenant  can^e  up.  The  good-humor 
of  the  former  had  been  restored  by  the  capture  of  the 
lugger. 

"Hallo!"  he  said,  looking  at  the  bandaged  heads 
and  arms  of  some  of  the  men,  "  so  you  have  been  hav- 
ing a  fight  trying  to  run  your  cargo,  I  suppose ;  that  will 
make  it  all  the  worse  for  you  when  you  get  on  shore. 
Now,  I  might  press  you  all  without  giviiig  you  a  choice, 
but  I  don't  want  unwilling  hands,  so  I  will  leave  it  to 
you.  Which  is  it  to  be — an  English  prison  for  two  or 
three  years,  or  a  cruise  on  board  the  Thetis  f  " 

The  greater  part  of  the  men  at  once  stepped  forward 
and  announced  their  willingness  to  volunteer. 

"Who  have  we  here?"  the  captain  asked,  looking  at 
the  three  countrymen. 

"  They  are  passengers,  sir,"  the  skipper  of  the  lugger 
said  with  a  half-smile. 

A  few  questions  brought  to  light  the  facts  of  th'e  sur- 
prise while  the  cargo  was  being  landed. 

"Well,  my  lads,"  the  captain  said,  "you  are  in  the 
same  boat  with  the  rest.  You  were  engaged  in  an  un- 
lawful enterprise  and  in  resisting  His  Majesty's  officers. 
You  will  get  some  months  in  prison  anyhow,  if  you  go 
back.  You  had  better  stay  on  board  and  let  me  make 
men  of  you." 


112 


WITH  WOLFE  IN  CANADA. 


The  countrymen,  however,  preferred  a  prison  to  a 
man-o'-war. 

James  Walsham  had  been  turning  over  the  matter  iri 
his  mind.  He  had  certainly  taken  no  part  in  the  fray, 
but  that  would  be  difficult  to  prove,  and  he  could  not 
account  for  his  presence  except  by  acknowledging  that 
he  was  there  to  warn  them.  It  would  certainly  be  a 
case  of  imprisonment.  Surely  it  would  be  better  to 
volunteer  than  this.  He  had  been  longing  for  the  sea, 
and  here  an  opportunity  opened  to  him  for  abandoning 
the  career  his  mother  intended  for  him  without  setting 
himself  in  opposition  to  her  wishes.  Surely  she  would 
prefer  that  he  should  be  at  sea  for  a  year  or  two  to  his 
being  disgraced  by  imprisonment.  He  therefore  now 
stepped  forward. 

"  I  do  not  belong  to  the  lugger's  crew,  sir,  and  had 
nothing  to  do  with  running  their  cargo,  though  I  own 
I  was  on  the  spot  at  the  time.  I  am  not  a  sailor,  though 
I  have  spent  a  good  deal  of  time  on  board  fishing-boats. 
Mr.  Horton,  whom  I  see  there,  knows  me,  and  will  tell 
you  that  I  am  the  son  of  a  doctor  in  Sidmouth.  But  as  I 
have  got  into  a  scrape  I  would  rather  serve  than  go 
back  and  stand  atrial." 

"Very  well,  my  lad,"  the  captain  said;  "I  like  your 
spirit,  and  will  keep  my  eye  on  you." 

The  three  countrymen  and  four  of  the  French  sailors 
who  declined  to  join  the  Thetis  were  taken  back  to  the 
cutter,  and  the  Thetis  at  once  proceeded  on  her  way 
down  Channel.  James  had  given  a  hastily  scribbled  line 
on  the  back  of  an  old  letter  which  he  happened  to  have 
in  his  pocket,  to  the  men  who  were  to  be  taken  ashore, 
but  ht  had  very  little  hope  that  it  would  ever  reach  his 
mother.  Nor  indeed  did  it  ever  do  so.  When  the 
cutter  reached  Weymouth  with  the  lugger,  the  men  cap- 
tured in  her  were  at  once  sent  to  prison,  where  they  re- 
mained until  they  were  tried  at  assizes  three  months 
afterward ;  and  although  all  were  acquitted  of  the  charge 
of  unlawful  resistance  to  the  king's  officers,  as  there  was 
no  proof  against  any  of  the  six  men  individually,  they 


t>ft£SSfit>. 


m 


to  a 


were  sentenced  to  a  year's  imprisonment  for  smuggling. 
Whether  Jim's  hurriedly  written  letter  was  thrown  over- 
board, or  whether  it  was  carried  in  the  pocket  of  the 
man  to  whom  he  gave  it  until  worn  into  fragments, 
James  never  knew,  but  it  never  reached  his  mother. 

The  news  that  James  was  missing  was  brought  to  her 
upon  the  day  after  the  event  by  Mr.  Wilks.  He  had,  as 
usual,  gone  down  after  breakfast  to  report  how  Aggie 
was  getting  on,  with  a  message  from  his  mother  that 
her  charge  was  now  so  completely  restored  that  it  was 
unnecessary  for  her  to  stay  longer  at  the  Hall,  and  that 
she  should  come  home  that  evening  at  her  usual  time. 
Hearing  from  the  girl  that  James  had  not  returned 
since  he  went  out  at  nine  o'clock  on  the  previous  even- 
ing, the  old  soldier  sauntered  down  to  the  beach  to 
inquire  of  the  fishermen  in  v/hose  boat  James  had  gone 
out. 

To  his  surprise  he  found  that  none  of  the  boats  had 
put  to  sea  the  evening  before.  The  men  seemed  less 
chatty  and  communicative  than  usual;  most  of  them 
were  preparing  to  go  out  with  their  boats,  and  none 
seemed  inclined  to  enter  into  a  conversation.  Rather 
wondering  at  their  unusual  reticence,  Mr.  Wilks  strolled 
along  to  where  the  officer  of  the  revenue  men  was  stand- 
ing with  his  boatswain  watching  the  fishermen. 

"  A  fine  morning,  lieutenant." 

"Yes,"  the  latter  assented.  "There  will  be  wind 
presently.  Have  you  heard  of  the  doings  of  last 
night?" 

"No,"  Mr.  Wilks  said  in  surprise,  "I  have  heard 
nothing.  I  was  just  speaking  to  the  fishermen,  but 
they  don't  seem  in  as  communicative  a  mood  as  usual 
this  morning." 

"  The  scamps  know  it  is  safest  for  them  to  keep  their 
mouths  shut  just  at  present,"  the  officer  said  grimly. 
"  I  have  no  doubt  a  good  many  of  them  were  concerned 
in  that  affair  last  night.  We  had  a  fight  with  the  smug- 
glers, two  of  my  men  were  shot  and  one  of  theirs,  and 
f-  there  were  a  good  many  cutlass  wounds  on  eacl^  sidc# 


l-lAr** 


114 


WITH   WOLFS  IN  CANADA. 


We  have  taken  a  score  of  prisoners,  but  they  are  all 
country  people  who  were  assisting  in  the  landing;  the 
smugglers  themselves  all  got  off.  We  made  a  mess  of 
the  affair  altogether,  thanks  to  some  fellow  who  rushed 
down  and  gave  the  alarm  and  upset  all  the  plans  we 
had  laid. 

"  It  is  too  provoking.  I  had  got  news  of  the  exact 
spot  and  hour  at  which  the  landing  was  to  take  place. 
I  had  my  men  all  up  on  the  cliff,  and  as  the  fellows  came 
up  with  kegs  they  were  to  have  been  allowed  to  get  a 
hundred  yards  or  so  inland  and  would  there  have  been 
seized,  and  any  shout  they  made  would  not  have  been 
heard  below.  Lieutenant  Fisher  with  his  party  from 
the  next  station  was  to  be  a  little  way  along  at  the  foot 
of  the  cliffs,  and  when  the  boats  came  with  the  second 
batch  he  was  to  rush  forward  and  capture  them  while 
we  came  down  from  above;  then  we  intended  to  row  off 
and  take  the  lugger — ^there  was  not  wind  enough  for  her 
to  get  away. 

"  All  was  going  well,  and  the  men  were  just  coming 
up  the  cliff  with  the  tubs,  when  someone  who  had 
passed  us  on  the  cliff  ran  down  shouting  the  alarm. 
We  rushed  down  at  once,  but  arrived  too  late.  They 
showed  fight,  and  kept  us  back  till  Fisher's  party  came 
up;  but  by  that  time  the  boats  were  afloat,  and  the 
smugglers  managed  to  get  in  and  carry  them  off  in  spite 
of  us.  We  caught,  as  I  tell  you,  some  of  the  country- 
men, and  Fisher  has  taken  them  off  to  Weymouth,  but 
most  of  them  got  away.  There  are  several  places  where 
the  cliff  can  be  climbed^by  men  who  know  it,  and  I  have 
no  doubt  half  those  fishermen  you  see  there  were  en- 
gaged in  the  business." 

"Then  the  smuggler  got  away?"  Mr.  Wilks  asked. 

"  I  don't  know,"  the  lieutenant  said  shortly.  "  I  had 
sent  word  to  Weymouth,  and  I  hope  they  will  catch  her 
ki  the  offing.  The  lugger  came  down  this  way  first,  but 
we  made  her  out  and  showed  a  |)lue  light.  She  must 
have  turned  and  gone  back  again,  for  this  morning  at 
daylight  we  made  her  out  to  the  east.    The  cutter  waa 


PRESSED. 


"5 


fiving  chase,  and  at  first  ran  down  fast  toward  her. 
hen  the  smi^gglers  got  the  wind,  and  the  last  we  saw  of 
them  they  w  ^i  e  running  up  the  Channel,  the  cutter  some 
three  miles  astern.  I  would  give  a  cou;)le  of  months' 
pay  to  know  who  it  was  that  gave  the  alarm.  I  expect 
it  was  one  of  those  fishermen.  As  far  as  my  me.,  could 
make  out  in  the  darkness  the  fellow  was  dressed  as  a 
sailor.  But  I  must  say  good-morning,  for  I  am  just 
going  to  turn  in." 

Mr.  Wilks  had  been  on  the  point  of  mentioninio^  that 
James  was  missing,  but  a  vague  idea  that  he  might  in 
some  way  be  mixed  up  with  the  event?  of  the  previous 
night  checked  the  question  on  his  lips,  and  yet  he 
thought,  as  the  officer  walked  away,  it  was  not  probable. 
Had  James  been  foolish  enough  to  take  part  in  such 
business  he  would  either  have  been  taken  prisoner,  or 
would,  after  he  escaped,  have  returned  home.  He  had 
evidently  not  been  taken  prisoner,  or  the  officer  would 
have  been  sure  to  mention  it.  Much  puzzled,  he  walked 
slowly  back  to  the  fishermen.  Some  of  the  boats  had 
already  pushed  oflf.  He  went  up  to  three  of  the  men, 
whose  boat,  being  higher  up  than  the  rest,  would  not 
be  afloat  for  another  quarter  of  an  hour. 

"  Look  here,  lads,"  he  said.  "  My  young  friend  Jim 
Walsham  is  missing  this  morning,  and  hasn't  been  at 
home  ail  night.  As  none  of  the  fishing-boats  put  out 
in  the  evening  he  cannot  have  gone  to  sea.  Can  any  of 
you  tell  me  anything  about  him?" 

The  men  gave  no  answer. 

"You  need  not  be  afraid  of  speaking  to  me,  you 
know,"  he  went  on,  "  and  it's  no  business  of  mine 
whether  any  of  the  men  on  the  shore  were  concerned  in 
that  affair.  The  lieutenant  has  just  been  telling  me  of 
last  night;  but  hearing  of  that,  and  finding  Jim  is  miss- 
ing, I  can't  help  thinking  there  is  some  connection  be- 
tween the  two  things.  Nothing  you  say  to  me  will  go 
further,  that  I  can  promise  you;  but  the  lad's  mother 
will  be  in  a  terrible  way.  I  can't  make  it  out,  for  I 
know  that  if  he  had  an^rthing  to  do  with  this  smuggling 


ti6 


WlXn   WOLFE  IN   CANADA. 


business  he  would  have  told  me.  Again,  if  he  was  there 
and  got  away,  he  would  naturally  have  come  straight 
home,  for  his  absence  would  only  throw  suspicion  upon 
him." 

"  Well,  Mr.  Wilks,"  the  youngest  of  the  sailors  said, 
"  I  don't  know  nothing  about  it  myself.  No  one  does, 
so  far  as  I  know,  but  I  have  heard  say  this  morning  as 
how  he  was  there  or  thereabouts;  but  don't  you  let  out 
as  I  told  you,  'cause  they  would  want  to  know  who  I 
heard  it  from." 

"  You  can  rely  upon  my  silence,  my  lad,  and  here's 
half  a  guinea  to  drink  my  health  between  you.  But 
can't  you  tell  me  a  little  more?  " 

"  Well,  sir,  they  do  say  as  how  it  war  Mr.  Jim  as  came 
running  down  into  the  middle  of  them  on  the  beach, 
shouting  the  alarm,  with  the  revenuie  men  close  at  his 
heels.  I  don't  say  as  it  were  he — likely  enough  it 
weren't — but  that's  the  talk,  and  that's  all  I  have  beared 
about  the  matter.  How  he  came  for  to  know  of  it  or 
how  he  got  there  no  one  knows,  for  sartin  he  has  had 
nought  to  do  with  any  landings  afore.  He  was  a  lot 
among  us,  but  I  know  as  he  never  was  told  about  it; 
for,  though  everyone  would  have  trusted  Jim,  still,  see- 
ing how  he  was  placed  with  his  mother  up  at  the  Hall, 
and  the  squire  a  magistrate,  it  was  thought  better  as  he 
shouldn't  be  let  into  it.  Everyone  on  the  shore  here 
likes  Jim." 

"  But  if  he  was  there  and  he  hasn't  been  taken 
prisoner — and  I  am  sure  the  lieutenant  would  have  told 
me  if  he  was — why  shouldn't  he  have  got  home?" 

"  We  didn't  know  as  he  hadn't  got  home,  did  us. 
Bill?"  the  fisherman  appealed  to  one  of  his  comrades. 

"  No,"  the  Qther  said.  "  We  thought  likely  he  had 
got  safely  away  with  the  rest.  It  war  a  dark  night,  and 
I  expect  as  everyone  was  too  busy  looking  after  himself 
to  notice  about  others." 

"  He  may  have  been  wounded,"  the  old  soldier  said 
anxiously,  "  and  may  be  in  hiding  in  sonie  hou^^  n^fir 
the  pla??/' 


bi^CUAtLGtl^. 


m 


there 
light 
ipon 

I  said, 

loes, 

fg  as 

out 

lo  I 


But 


The  fisherman  was  silent.  Such  a  thing  was  of  course 
possible. 

"  He  might  that,"  one  of  the  sailors  said  doubtfully, 
"and  yet  I  don't  think  it.  The  chase  was  a  hot  one, 
and  I  don't  think  anyone  wounded  so  bad  as  he  couldn't 
make  his  way  home  would  have  got  away.  I  should 
say  as  it  wur  more  likely  as  he  got  on  board  one  of  the 
boats.  It  seems  to  me  as  though  he  might  have  come 
to  warn  us — ^that  is  to  say,  to  warn  them,  I  mean — ^just 
to  do  'em  a  good  turn,  as  he  was  always  ready  to  do  if 
he  had  the  chance.  But  he  wouldn't  have  had  any- 
thing to  do  with  the  scrimmage,  and  might  have  been 
standing  quiet  like  iiear  the  boats  when  the  other  lot 
came  along  the  shore,  and  then,  seeing  as  the  game  was 
up,  he  might  likely  enough  have  jumped  on  board  and 
gone  off  to  the  lugger." 

"That  is  possible,"  Mr.  Wilks  said.  "Anyhow,  I 
will  go  oflF  at  once  and  make  inquiries  at  all  the  houses 
within  a  mile  or  so  of  the  hnding-place.'* 


CHAPTER  Vni. 


DISCHARGED. 

» 

Contrary  to  his  usual  habits  of  punctuality,  Mr. 
Wilks  did  not  return  to  luncheon  at  the  Hall,  sfnd  it  was 
two  hours  later  before  he  came  in,  looking  fagged  and 
anxious.  He  had  been  to  all  the  farmhouses  within 
two  miles  of  the  scene  of  the  fight,  and  had  ascertained 
for  certain  that  Jim  was  not  lying  wounded  at  any  of 
them.  At  first  his  inquiries  had  everywhere  been  coldly 
received.  There  was  scarce  a  farmhouse  near  the  coast 
but  the  occupant  had  relations  with  the  smugglers,  assist- 
ing with  their  carts  and  men  at  the  landings,  or  having 
hiding  places  where  goods  could  be  stowed  away.  At 
first,  therefore,  all  professed  entire  ignorance  of  the 
events  of  the  previous  night;  but  when  persuaded  by 
the  earnestness  of  the  old  soldier's  manner  that  his  mis- 


B*W»«u«*«*«: 


mm 


ltd 


mfU  WOtFCi  iU  CAHAtA. 


sion  was  a  friendly  one  they  became  more  communica* 
tive,  and  even  owned  that  some  of  their  men  had  been 
taken  prisoners  and  marched  to  Weymouth,  but  none 
of  them  had  heard  of  any  wounded  man  being  in  hiding. 

Convinced  at  last  that  James  must  have  gone  off  to 
the  lugger,  Mr.  Wilks  returned  to  Sidmouth  a  prey  to 
great  anxiety.  Everything  depended  now  on  whether 
the  lugger  was  captured.  If  so,  James  would  have  to 
stand  his  trial  for  being  concerned  in  the  fight  on  the 
beach,  and  as  two  of  the  revenue  men  had  been  killed 
his  sentence  might  be  a  heavy  one. 

If  she  ^got  away  iall  would  be  well.  They  would 
doubtless  hear  by  letter  from  Jim,  and  it  would  be  bet- 
ter that  he  should  not  return  at  present  to  Sidmouth, 
but  should  at  once  take  up  his  residence  in  London  and 
commence  his  studies  there.  He  met  the  squire  just  as 
the  latter  was  starting  for  Sidmouth. 
^  "  Well,  Wilks,  we  began  to  think  that  you  were  lost," 
he  said  cheerfully.  "  Aggie  was  downstairs  to  lunch,  and 
was  mightily  offended  that  you  should  not  be  there  at 
her  first  appearance.  But  you  look  tired  and  fagged. 
Has  anything  gone  wrong?  " 

"  Things  have  gone  very  wrong,  squire."  And  he  re- 
lated to  his  friend  all  the  news  that  he  had  gathered, 
and  his  conviction  that  James  Walsham  was  on  board 
the  lugger. 

"  This  Is  a  pretty  kettle  of  fish,"  the  squire  said  irri- 
tably. "What  on  earth  did  the  boy  mean  by  getting 
himself  mixed  up  with  such  an  affair  as  that?  " 

"  It  is  a  foolish  business,  squire,"  the  old  soldier 
agreed.  **  But  we  can't  expect  wise  heads  on  young 
shoulders,  I  suppose.  He  somehow  or  other  learned 
the  surprise  which  the  revenue  men  intended,  and  as 
most  of  his  friends,  the  fishermen,  would  probably  be 
concerned  in  it,  he  went  to  give  them  notice,  intending, 
no  doubt,  to  go  quietly  back  again  before  the  revenue 
men  arrived.  I  don't  know  that  he's  altogether  to  be 
blamed  in  the  matter.  Most  young  fellows  would  do 
the  same." 


tit^atA^G^t), 


tt^ 


"Well;  I  suppose  they  would,"  the  squire  agreed 
reluctantly;  "  but  it  is  a  most  awkward  business.  If  the 
lad  gets  caught  and  gets  two  or  three  years'  imprison- 
ment it  will  ruin  his  prospects  in  life.  His  mother  will 
be  broken-hearted  over  the  business,  and  I  am  sure 
Aggie  will  take  it  terribly  to  heart.  They  were  great 
friends  of  old,  though  she  hasn't  seen  much  of  him  for 
the  last  two  or  three  years,  and  of  course  that  affair  of 
the  other  day  has  made  quite  a  hero  of  him.'' 

"  We  must  hope  the  lugger  will  get  safely  over  To 
France,"  his  companion  said;  "  then  no  great  harm  will 
have  been  done." 

"We  must  hope  so,"  the  squire  assente^  moodily. 
"Confound  the  young  Jackanapes,  turning  everything 
upside  down  and  upsetting  us  all  with  his  mad-brain 
freaks."      , 

Mrs.  Walsham  was  greatly  distressed  when  the  news 
was  broken  to  her  by  Mr.  Wilks,  and  Aggie  cried  so 
that  the  squire  at  last  said  she  must  go  straight  up  to 
bed  unless  she  stopped,  for  she  would  be  making  her- 
self ill  again.  When  she  was  somewhat  pacified  the 
matter  was  discussed  in  every  light,  but  the  only  con- 
clusion to  be  arrived  at  was  that  their  sole  hope  rested 
in  the  lugger  getting  safely  off. 

"  Of  course,  my  dear  madam,"  the  squire  said,  "  if 
they  are  taken  I  will  do  my  best  to  get  a  pardon  for 
your  son.  I  am  afraid  he  will  have  to  stand  his  trial 
with  the  rest;  but  I  think  that,  with  the  representations 
I  will  make  as  to  his  good  character,  I  may  get  a  mitiga- 
tion anyhow  of  a  sentence.  If  they  find  out  that  it  was 
he  who  gave  the  alarm  there  will  be  no  hope  of  a  par- 
don; but  if  that  doesn't  come  out  one  would  represent 
his  being  there  as  a  mere  boyish  freak  of  adventure, 
and  in  that  case  I  might  get  him  a  free  pardon.  You 
must  not  take  the  matter  too  seriously  to  heart;  it  was  a 
foolish  business,  and  that  is  the  worst  that  can  be  said 
of  it." 

"  I  think  it  was  a  grand  thing,"  Aggie  said  indig- 
nantly, "for  him  to  risk  being  shot,  and  imprisoned. 


■'  ? 


I 


it  ^wawnwNHWi  mmt-m  m»m  ■ 


U6 


With  woLfe  m  Canada 


and  all  sorts  of  dreadful  things,  just  to  save  6thef 
people." 

"  And  I  think  you  are  a  goose,  Aggie,"  the  squire 
said.  "  If  everyone  were  to  go  and  mix  themselves  up 
in  other  people's  business  there  would  be  no .  end  of 
trouble.  I  suppose  next  you  will  say  that  if  you  heard 
me  arranging  With  the  constable  to  make  a  capture  of 
some  burglars,  you  would  think  it  a  grand  thing  to  put 
on  your  hat  to  run  off  to  warn  them." 

"  Oh,  grandpapa,  how  caii  you  say  such  a  thing! " 
the  girl  said;  **  burglars  and  smugglers  are  quite  dif- 
ferent. Burglars  are  wicked  men,  and  thieves  and 
robbers;  smugglers  are  not — they  are  only  trying  to 
get  goods  in  without  paying  duty." 

"  They  try  to  rob  the  king,  my  dear,  and  in  the  eyes 
of  the  law  are  just  as  criminal  as  burglars;  bpth  of  them 
are  leagued  to  break  the  law,  and  both  will  resist  and 
take  life  if  they  are  interfered  with.  I  allow  that  in  gen- 
eral estimation  the  smugglers  are  looked  upon  in  a  more 
favorable  light,  and  that  a  great  many  people  who  ought 
to  know  better  are  in  league  with  them,  but  that  does 
not  alter  the  facts  of  the  case." 

The  girl  did  not  argue  the  question,  but  the  squire 
was  perfectly  aware  that  he  had  in  no  way  convinced 
her,  and  that  her  feeling  that  James  Walsham's  action 
was  a  highly  meritorious  one  was  in  no  way  shaken.  It 
was  agreed  that  nothing  was  to  be  said  about  James' 
absence,  and  after  taking  some  refreshment  Mr.  Wilks 
went  down  into  Sidmouth  again  to  tell  the  girl  at  Mrs. 
Walshani's  that  she  was  not  to  gossip  about  James 
being  away. 

Three  days  later  a  letter  was  received  by  the  squire 
from  Richard  Horton: 

-  "I  am  taking  the  opportunity  of  writing  a  few  lines 
to  you,  my  dear  uncle,  as  I  have  a  chance  of  sending  it 
ashore  by  the  revenue  cutter  Thistle,  which  is  lying 
alongside  of  us.  Between  us  we  have  just  captured  a 
rascally  smuggling  lugger,  with  a  cargo  of  lace,  silk, 
and  spirits.    You  will,  I  am  sure,  be  surprised  and 


BISCH  ARCED. 


lax 


Tieved  to  hear  that  among  the  crew  of  the  lugger  was 
fames  Walsham.  I  could  hardly  believe  my  eyes  when 
"  saw  him  in  such  disreputable  company ;  it  will  be  a  sad 
blow  for  his  poor  mother.  As  we  were  short,  of  hands 
our  captain  offered  the  crew  of  the  lugger  the  choice  of 
shipping  with  us,  or  being  sent  on  shore  for  trial.  Most 
of  them  chose  the  former  alternative,  among  them  James 
Walsham,  of  which  I  was  glad,  as  his  mother  will  be 
spared  the  disgrace  of  his  being  placed  in  the  dock  with 
his  associates.  I  need  not  say  that  if  I  could  have 
obtained  his  release  I  should  have  done  so,  knowing 
that  you  had  a  high  opinion  of  him;  but  it  was,  of 
course,  out  of  my  power  to  interfere." 

The  squire  was  alone  ifl  his  study  when  he  received 
the  letter,  for  it  was  midday  before  the  post  arrived  at 
Sidmouth,  when  a  man  from  the  Hall  went  down  each 
day  with  a  bag  to  fetch  the  letters.  He  rang  the  bell 
and  ordered  the  servant  to  tell  Mr.  Wilks  he  should  be 
glad  if  he  would  step  in  to  him.  When  his  friend  came 
he  handed  him  the  letter  without  a  word. 

"  That  settles  the  matter,"  he  said,  as  he  threw  the 
letter  angrily  down  upon  the  table.  "  A  malicious  young 
viper!     I  wish  I  had  him  here." 

"  It  is  not  nicely  worded,"  the  squire  said  gravely; 
"  but  it  was  an  unpleasant  story  to  have  to  tell." 

"  It  is  not  an  unpleasant  story  for  him  to  tell,"  the 
old  soldier  said  hotly.  "  There  is  malice  in  every  line 
of  it.  He  speaks  of  the  men  as  James'  associates,  talks 
about  the  disgrace  he  would  bring  on  his  mother. 
Thereto  malice,  squire,  in  every  line  of  it." 

"  I'm  afraid  it's  a  bad  letter,"  the  squire  assented 
gravely. 

"  It's  a  natural  letter,"  Mr.  Wilks  said  savagely.  "  It 
is  written  in  a  hurry,  and  he's  had  no  time  to  pick  and 
choose  his  words  and  round  off  his  sentences  as  he 
generally  docs  in  his  letters  to  you.  He  was  so  full  of 
malicious  exultation  that  he  did  not  think  how  much 
he  was  showing  his  feeling  as  he  wrote." 

'*Jt;'g  a  b^d  Utter  and  a  nast^  letter,"  the  sciuir^> 


M 


m^^ 


tu 


WITH  WOLFE  IN  CANADA. 


assented;  "but  let  that  pass  now.  The  first  question  is 
— How  are  we  to  tell  Jim's  mother?  Do  you  think  it 
will  be  a  relief  to  her  or  otherwise?  " 

"  It  will  be  a  blow  to  know  that  the  lugger  has  been 
captured,"  Mr.  Wilks  said — "a  severe  blow,  no  doubt, 
for  her  escape  is  what  we  have  been  building  our  hopes 
upon.  It  will  be  a  heavy  blow,  too,  for  her  to  know  that 
James  is  a  seaman  before  the  mast,  that  it  will  be  years 
before  she  will  see  him  again,  and  that  all  her  plans  for 
his  future  are  upset.  But  I  think  this  will  be  much  better 
for  her  than  if  she  knew  he  was  a  prisoner  and  would 
have  to  stand  a  trial.  Between  ourselves,  squire,  as  far 
as  the  lad  himself  is  concerned  I  am  not  sure  that  he  will 
be  altogether  sorry  that  events  have  turned  out  as  they 
have.  In  our  talks  together  he  has  often  confided  to 
me  that  his  own  inclinations  were  altogether  for  a  life  of 
activity  and  adventure;  but  that,  as  his  ^mother's  heart 
was  so  set  upon  his  following  his  father's  profession, 
he  had  resolved  upon  never  saying  a  word  to  her  which 
would  lead  her  to  suppose  that  his  own  wishes  lay  in  arty 
other  direction.  This  business  will  give  him  the  oppor- 
tunity he  has  longed  for,  to  see  the  world  without  his 
appearing  in  any  way  to  thwart  his  mother's  plans." 

"  At  any  rate,"  the  squire  said,  "  I  am  heartily  glad 
he  has  got  oflf  being  tried.  Even  if  I  had  got  a  free 
pardon  for  him,  it  would  have  been  a  serious  slur  upon 
him  that  he  had  been  imprisoned,  and  would  have  been 
awkward  for  us  all  in  the  future.  I  think,  Wilks,  I  will 
leave  it  to  you  to  break  it  to  his  mother." 

"  Very  well,"  the  other  agreed.  "  It  is  an  unpleasant 
business,  squire ;  but  perhaps  I  had  better  do  it.  It  may 
console  her  if  I  tell  her  that  .t  heart  he  always  wanted 
to  go  to  sea,  and  that,  accustomed  as  he  is  to  knock 
about  in  the  fishermen's  boats,  he  will  find  it  no  hardship 
on  board  a  man-o'-war  and  will  come  back  in  the  course 
of  two  or  three  years  none  the  worse  for  his  cruise.  She 
may  think  he  will  take  up  doctoring  again  after  that, 
though  I  have  my  doubts  whether  he  will  do  that;  how- 
ever, there  is  no  use  in  telling  her  so.  Shall  I  show  her 
that  letter,  squire?  " 


DISCHARGED. 


133 


"  No,"  the  squire  replied;  "of  course  you  can  tell  Ver 
what's  in  it;  but  I  will  keep  the  letter  myself.  I  wouM 
give  a  good  deal  if  he  had  not  written  it.  It  is  certainly 
badly  worded,  though  why  he  should  feel  any  malice 
toward  the  other  is  more  than  I  can  tell." 

His  companion  was  about  to  speak,  but  thought  better 
of  it,  and,  without  another  wora,  went  to  break  the  news 
'o  Mrs.  Walsham. 

Mrs.  Walsham  was  terribly  upset.  After  suffering 
her  to  cry  for  some  time  in  silence,  Mr.  Wilks  said: 

"  My  dear  madam,  I  know  that  this  news  must  dis- 
tress you  terribly;  but  it  may  be  that  in  this,  as  in  all 
things,  a  providence  has  overruled  your  plans  for  your 
son  for  his  own  good.  I  will  tell  you  now  what  you 
would  never  have  known  had  this  affair  never  occurred. 
Jim  at  heart  hates  his  father's  profession.  He  is  a  duti- 
ful son,  and  rather  than  give  you  pain  he  was  prepared 
to  sacrifice  all  his  own  feelings  and  wishes.  But  the  lad 
is  full  of  life  and  energy;  the  dull  existence  of  a  country 
surgeon  in  a  little  town  like  this  is  the  last  he  would 
adopt  as  his  own  choice;  and  I  own  that  I  am  not  sur- 
prised that  a  lad  of  spirit  should  long  for  a  more  adven- 
turous life.  I  should  have  told  you  this  long  ago,  and 
advised  you  that  it  would  be  well  for  you  both  to  put  it 
frankly  to  him,  that  although  you  would  naturally  like 
to  see  him  following  his  father's  profession,  still  that 
you  felt  that  he  should  choose  for  himself:  and  that 
should  he  select  any  other  mode  of  life  you  would  not 
set  your  wishes  against  his.  But  the  lad  would  not  hear 
of  my  doing  so;  he  said  that  rather  than  upset  your 
cherished  plans  he  would  gladly  consent  to  settle  down 
in  Sidmouth  for  life.  I  honored  him  for  his  filial  spirit; 
but  frankly  I  think  he  was  wrong.  An  eagle  is  not  made 
to  live  in  a  hen-coop,  nor  a  spirited  lad  to  settle  down  in 
a  humdrum  village;  and  I  own  that  although  I  regret 
the  manner  of  his  going,  I  cannot  look  upon  it  as  an 
unmixed  evil  that  the  force  of  circumstances  has  taken 
him  out  of  the  course  marked  out  for  him,  and  that  he 
will  have  an  opportunity  of  seeing  life  an4  adventure/* 


124 


WITH    WOLFE   IN   CAITADA. 


Mrs.'  Walsliam  had  listened  with  a  surprise  too  great 
to  admit  of  her  interrupting  the  old  soldier's  remarks. 

"  I  never  dreamed  of  this,"  she  said  at  last,  when  he 
ceased.  "  I  cannot  remember  now  that  I  ever  asked 
him,  but  took  it  for  granted  that  he  would  like  nothing 
better  than  to  follow  in  his  father's  steps.  Had  I  known 
that  he  objected  to  it  I  would  not  for  a  moment  have 
forced  him  against  his  inclinations.  Of  course  it  is 
natural  that,  being  alone  in  the  world,  I  should  like  to 
have  him  with  me  still,  but  I  would  never  have  been  so 
selfish  as  to  have  sacrificed  his  life  to  mine.  Still,  though 
it  would  be  hard  to  have  parted  from  him  in  any  way, 
il  is  harder  still  to  part  like  this.  If  he  was  to  go  he 
need  not  have  gone  as  a  common  sailor.  The  squire, ^ 
who  has  done  so  much  for  him,  would,  no  doubt,  instead 
of  sending  him  to  school,  have  obtained  a  midshipman's 
berth  for  him  or  a  commission  in  the  army;  but  it  is 
dreadful  to  think  of  him  as  a  common  sailor,  liable  to  be 
flogged." 

"  Well,  Mrs.  Walsham,  perhaps  we  may  set  the  matter 
partly  to  rights.  I  will  speak  to  the  squire,  and  I  am 
sure  he  will  write  to  his  friend  at  the  Admiralty,  and  have, 
an  order  send  out  at  once  for  Jim's  discharge.  At  the 
same  time  it  would  be  better  that  he  should  not  return 
here  just  at  present.  His  name  may  come  out  at  the 
trial  of  the  smugglers  as  being  concerned  in  the  affair, 
and  it  would  be  better  that  he  should  stay  away  till  that 
matter  blows  over.  At  any  rate,  if  I  were  you  I  should 
write  to  him,  telling  him  that  you  know  now  that  he  has 
no  taste  for  the  medical  profession,  and  that,  should  he 
see  anything  that  he  thinks  will  suit  him  in  America, 
you  would  not  wish  him  to  come  home  immediately  if 
he  has  a  fancy  for  staying  out  there;  but  that,  if  he 
chooses  to  return,  you  are  sure  that  the  squire  will  exert 
himself  to  give  him  a  start  in  any  other  profession  he 
may  choose."  * 

Mrs.  Walsham  agreed  to  carry  out  the  suggestion, 
and  that  afternoon  the  squire  sent  off  a  letter  to  his  friend 
at  the  Admiralty,  and  three  letters  were  also  posted  to 
James  himself. 


DISCHARGED. 


t^S 


The  voyage  of  the  Thetis  was  uneventful.  Her  des- 
tination was  Hampton,  at  the  opening  of  Chesapeake 
Bay,  where  the  troops  on  board  would  join  the  expedi- 
tion under  General  Braddock,  which  was  advancing  up 
the  Potomac.  When  she  arrived  there  they  found 
several  ships  of  war  under  Commodore  Keppel.  Brad- 
dock's  force  had  marched  to  Wills  Creek,  where  a  mili- 
tary post  named  Fort  Cumberland  had  been  formed. 
The  soldiers  on  board  were  at  once  disembarked,  and 
marched  up  the  banks  of  the  Potomac  to  join  the  force 
at  Fort  Cumberland.  The  sailors  were  employed  in  tak- 
ing stores  up  the  river  in  boats. 

James  Walsham  had  done  his  best  during  the  voyage 
to  acquire  a  knowledge  of  his  duties.  His  experience  in 
the  fishing-boats  was  useful  to  him  now,  and  he  was 
soon  able  to  do  his  work  as  an  able-bodied  seaman. 
His  good  spirits  and  willingness  rendered  him  a  general 
favorite.  He  was  glac  that  he  was  not  put  in  the  same 
watch  with  Richard  Horton,  as,  after  their  first  meeting, 
the  young  lieutenant  showed  no  signs  of  recognition. 
He  was  not,  James  found,  popular  among  the  men.  He 
was  exacting  and  overbearing  with  them,  and  some  on 
board  who  had  served  with  him  on  his  previous  voyage 
had  many  tales  to  his  disadvantage. 

A  fortnight  after  the  arrival  of  the  Thetis  at  Hampton 
orders  were  issued  among  the  ships  of  war  for  thirty 
volunteers  for  Braddock's  expedition,  of  which  the  Thetis 
was  to  furnish  ten.  So  ma'ny  sent  in  their  names  that 
the  first  lieutenant  had  difficulty  in  choosing  ten,  who 
were  looked  upon  with  envy  by  the  rest  of  the  ship's 
company,  for  there  seemed  little  chance  at  present  of 
fighting  at  sea,  and  the  excitement  of  a  march  on  shore, 
with  adventures  of  all  sorts,  and  encounters  with  the 
French  and  their  Indian  allies,  seemed  delightful  to  the 
tars.  Upon  the  following  day  a  ship  arrived  from  Eng- 
land, and  an  hour  afterward  an^order  was  passed  forward 
that  the  first  lieutenant  wanted  James  Walsham  upon 
the  quarter-deck. 

"  Walsham,"  he  said,  "  an  order  has  just  come  from 


1-^ 


WITH   WOLFE  IN   CANADA. 


> 
N. 


the  Admiralty  for  your  discharge,  and  you  are  to  have 
a  passage  in  the  first  ship  returning,  if  you  choose  to  take 
it.  I  am  sorry  you  are  leaving  the  ship,  for  I  have 
noticed  that  you  show  great  willingness  and  activity, 
and  will  make  a  first-rate  sailor.  Still,  I  suppose  your 
friends  in  England  did  not  care  about  your  remaining 
before  the  mast." 

James  touched  his  hat  and  walked  forward.  He  was 
scarcely  surprised,  for  he  had  thought  that  his  mother 
would  probably  ask  the  squire  to  use  his  influence  to 
obtain  his  discharge.  He  scarcely  knew  whether  he  was 
glad  or  sorry.  He  was  in  a  false  position,  and  could  not 
hope  for  promotion  except  by  some  lucky  chance,  such 
as  was  not  likely  to  occur,  of  distinguishing  himself. 

At  the  same  time  he  sighed  as  he  thought  that  he 
must  now  return  and  take  up  the  profession  for  which 
his  mother  had  intended  him.  A  quarter  of  an  hour 
later,  however,  the  ship's  corporal  came  around  and 
distributed  the  mails,  and  James,  to  his  delight,  found 
there  were  three  letters  for  him.  He  tore  open  that 
from  his  mother.  It  began  by  gently  upbraiding  him  for 
getting  mixed  up  in  the  fight  between  the  smugglers 
and  the  revenue  men. 

"  In  the  next  place,  my  dear  boy,"  she  sai(',  "  I  must 
scold  you  even  more  for  not  confiding  in  your  mother 
as  to  your  wishes  about  your  future  profession.  Mr. 
Wilks  has  opened  my  eyes  to  the  fact  that,  while  I  have 
all  along  been  taking  it  for  granted  that  your  wishes 
agreed  with  mine  as  to  your  profession,  you  have  really 
been  sacrificing  all  your  own  inclinations  in  order  to 
avoid  giving  me  pain.  I  am  very  thankful  to  him  for 
having  opened  my  eyes,  for  I  should  have  been  grieved 
indeed  had  I  found  when  too  late  that  I  had  chained 
you  down  to  a  profession  you  dislike. 

"  Of  course  I  :hould  have  liked  to  have  had  you  with 
me,  but  in  no  case  would  have  had  you  sacrifice  your- 
self; still  less  now,  when  I  have  met  with  such  kind 
friends  and  am  happy  and  comfortable  in  my  life. 
Therefore,  my  boy,  let  us  set  aside  at  once  all  idea  of 


I 


JL)ISCHARG£0. 


1^7 


your  becoming  a  doctor.  There  is  no  occasion  for  you 
to  choose  immediately  what  you  will  do.  You  are  too 
old  now  to  enter  the  royal  navy,  and  it  is  well  that  before 
you  finally  decide  on  a  profession  you  have  the  oppor- 
tunity of  seeing  something  of  the  world. 

"  1  inclose  bank-notes  for  a  hundred  pounds,  so  that 
if  you  like  you  can  stay  for  a  few  weeks  or  months  in 
the  Colonies,  and  then  take  your  passage  home  from 
New  York  or  Boston.  By  that  time,  too,  all  talk  about 
this  affair  with  the  smugglers  will  have  ceased;  but  as 
your  name  is  likely  to  come  out  at  the  trial  of  the  men 
who  were  taken,  the  squire  thinks  it  will  be  better 
for  you  to  keep  away  for  a  time." 

The  rest  of  the  letter  was  filled  up  with  an  account 
of  the  excitement  and  alarm  which  had  been  felt  when 
he  was  first  missed. 

"  We  were  glad,  indeed,"  she  said,  "  when  a  letter  was 
received  from  Richard  Horton,  saying  that  you  were  on 
board  the  Thetis.  Mr.  Wilks  tells  me  it  was  an  abomina- 
bly spiteful  letter,  and  I  am  sure  the  squire  thinks  so  too 
from  the  tone  in  which  he  spoke  this  afternoon  about 
his  nephew ;  but  I  can  quite  forgive  him,  for  if  it  had  not 
been  for  his  letter  we  should  not  have  known  what  had 
become  of  you,  and  many  months  might  have  passed 
before  we  might  have  heard  from  you  in  America.  As 
it  is,  only  four  or  five  days  have  been  lost,  and  the  squire 
is  writing  to-night  to  obtain  your  discharge,  which,  he 
assures  me,  there  will  be  no  difficulty  whatever  about." 

The  squire's  was  a  very  cordial  letter,  and  he  too 
inclosed  notes  for  a  hundred  pounds. 

"  Mr.  Wilks  tells  me,"  he  said,  "  that  you  do  not  like 
the  thought  of  doctoring.  I  am  not  surprised,  and  I 
think  that  a  young  fellow  of  such  spirit  and  courage  as 
you  have  shown  ought  to  be  fitted  for  something  better 
than  administering  pills  and  draughts  to  the  old  women 
of  Sidmouth.  Tell  me  frankly  when  you  write  what  you 
would  like.  You  are,  of  course,  too  old  for  the  royal 
navy.  If  you  like  to  enter  the  merchant  service  I  have 
no  doubt  I  could  arrange  with  some  shipping  firm  in 


I2S 


WltH  ivoLFfi  IN  Canada. 


- 


Bristol,  and  would  take  care  that  by  the  time  you  get  to 
be  captain  you  should  also  be  part  owner  of  the  ship.  If, 
on  the  other  hand,  you  would  like  to  enter  the  army — 
and  it  seems  to  me  that  there  are  stirring  times  approach- 
ing— I  think  that  through  one  or  other  of  my  friends  in 
London  I  could  obtain  a  commission  for  you.  If  there 
is  anythiiig  else  you  would  like  better  than  this  you  may 
command  my  best  services.  I  never  forget  how  much 
I  am  indebted  to  you  for  my  present  happiness,  and 
whatever  I  can  do  for  you,  still  shall  feel  myself  deeply 
your  debtor." 

The  old  soldier  wrote  a  characteristic  letter.  In  the 
first  place  he  told  James  that  he  regarded  him,  as  a  fool 
for  mixing  up  in  an  affair  in  which  he  had  no  concern 
whatever.  Then  he  congratulated  him  on  the  fact  that 
circums!ances  had  broken  the  chain  from  which  he 
would  never  otherwise  have  freed  himself. 

"  You  must  not  be  angry  with  me,"  he  said,  "  for  hav- 
ing betrayed  your  confidence  and  told  the  truth  to  your 
mother.  I  did  it  in  order  to  console  her,  by  showing 
her  that  things  were,  after  all,  for  the  best;  and  I  must 
say  that  madam  took  my  news  in  the  very  best  spirit, 
and  I  am  sure  you  will  see  this  by  her  letter  to  you. 
There  is  no  one  I  honor  and  esteem  more  than  I  do  her, 
and  I  was  sure  all  along  that  you  were  making  a  mistake 
in  not  telling  her  frankly  what  your  wishes  were.  Now 
you  have  got  a  roving  commission  for  a  time,  and  it  will 
be  your  own  fault  if  you  don't  make  the  best  of  it.  There 
is  likely  to  be  an  exciting  time  in  the  Colonies,  and  you 
are  not  the  lad  I  take  you  for  if  you  dawdle  away  your 
time  in  the  towns  instead  of  seeing  what  is  going  on  in 
the  forest." 

These  letters  filled  James  with  delight,  and  without  an 
hour's  delay  he  sat  down  to  answer  them.  In  his  letter 
to  the  squire  he  thanked  him  most  warmly  for  his  kind- 
ness, and  said  that  above  all  things  he  should  like  a 
commission*  in  the  army.  He  wrote  a  very  tender  and 
affectionate  letter  to  his  mother,  telling  her  ho\y  much 
he  felt  her  goodness  in  so  promptly  rehnquishing  her 


DISCHARGED. 


12g 


own  plans  and  in  allowing  him  to  choose  the  life  he 
liked. 

"  Thank  Aggie,"  he  concluded,  "  for  the  message  she 
sent  by  you.  Give  her  my  love,  and  don't  let  her  forget 
me."  To  the  old  soldier  he  wrote  a  gossiping  account 
of  his  voyage.  "  It  was  impossible,"  he  said,  "  Tor  the 
news  of  my  discharge  to  have  come  at  a  better  moment. 
Thirty  sailors  from  the  fleet  are  going  with  General- 
Braddock's  force,  and  everyone  else  is  envying  their 
good  luck — I  among  them.  Now  I  shall  go  up  at  once 
and  join  the  Virginian  regiment  which  is  accompanying 
them.  I  shall  join  that  instead  of  either  of  the  line 
regiments,  as  I  can  leave  when  I  like.  Besides,  if  the 
squire  is  able  to  get  me  a  commission,  it  would  have 
been  pleasanter  for  me  to  have  been  fighting  here  as 
a  volunteer  than  as  a  private  in  the  line. 

"  By  the  way,  nobody  thinks  there  will  be  much  fight- 
ing, so  don't  let  my  mother  worry  herself  about  me ;  but, 
at  any  rate,  a  march  through  the  great  forests  of  this 
country,  with  a  chance  of  a  brush  with  the  redskins,  will 
be  great  fun.  Perhaps  by  the  time  it  is  over  I  may  get 
a  letter  from  you  saying  that  I  have  got  my  com'mis^ 
-sion.  As  I  hear  there  is  a  chance  of  a  regular  war 
between  the  French  and  us  out  here,  the  commission 
lifey  be  for  a  regiment  on  this  side." 

After  finishing  his  letters  and  giving  them  to  the  ship's 
corporal  to  place  in  the  next  post-bag,  James  said 
good-by  to  his  messmates  and  prepared  to  go  on  shore. 
The  ten  men  chosen  for  the  expedition  were  also  on  the 
point  of  starting.  Richard  Horton  was  standing  near, 
in  a  state  of  great  discontent  that  he  had  not  been  chosen 
to  accompany  them  in  their  expedition.  James  Wal- 
sham  stepped  up  to  him  and  touched  his  hat  respectfully. 

"  I  wish  to  thank  you,  Lieutenant  Horton,  for  your 
extremely  kind  letter  telling  my  friends  that  I  was  on 
board  this  ship.  It  has  been  the  means  of  my  obtaining 
my  discharge  at  once,  instead  of  having  to  serve  for 
many  months  before  I  could  send  the  news  hqmf  mi 
obtain  an  answer  in  return/" 


»» 


130 


WITH  WOLFE  IN  CANAQA. 


Without  another  word  he  turned,  and  walking  to  the 
gangway,  took  his  place  in  a  boat  about  starting  with 
some  sailors  for  the  shore,  leaving  Richard  Horton  in 
a  state  of  fury  with  himself  for  having  been  the  means 
of  obtaining  James'  discharge.  He  had  already  more 
than  once  felt  uncomfortable  as  he  thought  of  the  word- 
ing of  the  letter,  and  that  this  indulgence  of  his  spite 
had  had  the  effect  of  restoring  James'  liberty  rendered 
him  well-nigh  mad  with  rage. 

On  landing  James  Walsham  at  once  disposed  of  his 
sailor's  clothes  and  purchased  a  suit  similar  to  those 
worn  by  the  colonists;  then  he  obtained  passage  up  the 
river  to  Alexandria,  where  the  transports  which  had 
brought  the  troops  were  still  lying.  Here  one  of  the 
companies  of  the  Virginia  corps  was  stationed,  and 
James,  finding  that  they  were  expecting  every  day  to 
be  ordered  up  to  Wills  Creek,  determined  to  join  them 
at  once. 

The  scene  was  a  busy  one.  Stores  were  being  landed 
from  the  transports,  teamsters  were  loading  up  their 
wagons,  officers  were  superintending  the  operations,  the 
men  of  the  Virginia  corps,  who  wore  no  uniform,  but 
were  attired  in  the  costume  vised  by  hunters  and  back- 
woodsmen, namely,  a  loose  hunting  shirt,  short  trousers 
or  breeches  and  gaiters,  were  moving  about  unco*» 
cernedly,  while  a  few  of  them,  musket  on  shoulder,  were 
on  guard  over  the  piles  of  stores.  Presently  a  tall, 
slightly  built  young  man,  with  a  pleasant  but  resolute 
face,  came  riding  along  and  checked  his  horse  close  to 
where  James  was  standing.  James  noticed  that  the  men 
on  sentry,  who  had  for  the  most  part  been  sitting  down 
on  faMen  logs  of  wood,  bales,  or  anything  else  which 
came  handy,  with  their  muskets  across  their  knees  or 
leaning  beside  them,  got  up  and  began  pacing  to  and  fro 
with  some  semblance  of  military  position. 

"Who  is  that  young  man?"  he  asked  a  teamster 
standing  by. 

"  That  is  Colonel  Washington,"  the  man  replied;  "  one 
ol  the  smartest  of  the  Colonial  officers/* 


DiSCHARG£iX 


U* 


"  Why,  he  looks  only  two  or  three  and  twenty,"  James 
said  in  surprise. 

*'  He  is  not  more  than  that,"  the  man  said;  "  but  age 
don't  go  for  much  here,  and  Colonel  Washington  is 
adjutant-general  of  the  Virginian  militia.  Only  a  few 
months  back  he  made  a  journey  with  dispatches  right 
through  the' forests  to  the  French  station  at  Port  de 
Bceuf,  and  since  then  he  has  been  in  command  of  the 
party  which  went  out  to  build  a  fort  at  the  forks  of  the 
Ohio,  and  had  some  sharp  fighting  with  the  French.  A 
wonderful  smart  young  officer  they  say  he  is,  just  as  cool 
when  the  bullets  are  flying  as  if  sitting  on  horseback." 

James  resolved  at  once  that  "he  would  speak  to  Colonel 
Washington  and  ask  him  if  he  could  join  the  Virginian 
militia. 

He  accordingly  went  up  to  him  and  touched  his  hat. 

"  If  you  please,  sir,  I  am  anxious  to  join  the  Virginian 
militia,  and,  as  they  tell  me  that)  you  are  adjutant- 
general,  I  have  come  to  ask  you  if  I  can  do  so." 

"  I  see  no  difficulty  in  it,  my  lad,"  the  colonel  said; 
"  but  if  you  have  run  away  from  home  in  search  of 
adventure  I  should  advise  you  to  go  back  again,  for  we 
are  likely  to  have  heavy  work." 

"  I  don't  mind  that,  sir,  and  I  have  not  run  away.  I 
am  English.  I  was  pressed  on  board  a  frigate  and  was 
brought  over  here,  but  my  friends  in  England  procured 
my  discharge,  which  came  for  me  here  a  fortnight  after 
my  arrival.  They  are,  I  believe,  about  to  obtain  for  me 
a  commission  in  a  king's  regiment;  but  as  I  was  here 
I  thought  that  I  should  like  to  see  some  service,  as  it 
may  be  some  months  before  I  hear  that  I  have  got  my 
commission.  I  would  rather,  if  I  could,  join  as  a  volun- 
teer, as  I  do  not  want  pay,  my  friends  having  supplied 
me  amply  with  money." 

*'  You  seem  to  be  a  lad  of  spirit,"  Colonel  Washington 
said,  **  and  I  will  at  once  put  you  in  the  way  of  doing 
what  you  desire.  You  shall  join  the  Virginian  corps 
as  a  volunteer.  Have  you  money  enough  to  buy  a 
horse?" 


tji 


W!*M  WoLflE  11*  CANADA. 


: 


"Yes,  plenty,"  Jim  said.  "I  have  Iwo  hundred 
pounds." 

"Then  you  had  better  leave  a  hundred  and  fifty,  at 
least,  behind  you,"  the  colonel  said.  "  I  will  direct  you 
to  a  trader  here  with  whom  you  can  bank  it.  You  can 
get  an  excellent  horse  for  twenty  pounds.  I  asked  you 
because,  if  you  like,  I  can  attach  you  to  myself.  I  often 
want  a  mounted  messenger,  and,  of  course,  as  a  volun- 
teer, you  would  mess  with  me." 

"  I  should  like  it  above  all  things,"  James  said 
thankfully. 

"  Then  we  will  at  once  go  to  the  tent  of  the  officer 
commanding  this  company,"  Washington  said,  "and 
enroll  you  as  a  volunteer." 

On  reaching  the  tent  Washington  dismounted  and  led 
the  way  in.  "  Captain  Hall,"  he  said,  "  this  is  a  young 
English  gentleman  who  will  shortly  have  a  commission 
in  the  king's  army,  but  in  the  meantime  he  wishes  to 
see  a  little  brisk  fighting,  so  he  is  to  be  enrolled  as  a  < 
volunteer  in  your  company;  but  he  is  going  to  obtain 
a  horse  and  will  act  as  a  sort  of  aid-de-camp  to  me." 

Captain  Hall  at  once  entered  James'  name  as  a  volun- 
teer on  the  roll  of  his  company. 

"  Do  you  know  of  anyone  who  has  a  good  horse  for 
sale?  "  Washington  asked. 

"Yes,"  the  captafti  replied,  "at  least,  there  was  a 
farmer  here  half  an  hour  ago  with  a  good-looking  horse 
which  he  wants  to  sell.  I  have  no  doubt  he  is  in  the 
camp  still." 

Captain  Hall  went  to  the  door  of  the  tent  and  told 
two  of  the  men  there  to  find  the  farmer  and  tell  him  he 
had  a  purchaser  for  his  horse. 

Ten  minutes  later  the  farmer  came  up  and  James 
bought  the  horse.  Captain  Hall  doing  the  bargaining  for 
him. 

"  Now,"  Washington  said,  "  we  will  go  round  to  the 
store-keeper  I  spoke  of  and  deposit  the  best  part  of  your 
money  with  him.  4  should  only  take  a  pound  or  two, 
if  I  were  you,  for  you  will  find  no  means  of  spending 


THC  DEFEAT  OF   BRADDOCK. 


»33 


money  when  you  once  set  forv»rard,  and  should  anything 
happen  to  you  the  Indians  would  not  appreciate  the 
value  of  those-  English  notes  of  yours.  You  will  want 
a  brace  of  pistols  and  a  sword,  a  blanket,  and  cooking- 
pot — that  is  about  the  extent  of  your  camp  equipment." 


.,,.;  CHAPTER  IX. 

THE   DEFEAT  OF   BRADDOCK. 

England  and  France  were  at  this  time  at  peace  in 
Europe,  although  the  troops  of  both  nations  were  about 
to  engage  in  conflict  in  the  forests  of  America.  Their 
position  there  was  an  anomalous  one.  England  owned 
the  belt  of  colonies  on  the  east  coast.  France  was  mis- 
tress of  Canada  in  the  north,  of  Louisiana  in  the  south, 
and  moreover  claimed  the  whole  of  the  vast  country 
lying  behind  the  British  colonies,  which  were  thus 
cooped  up  on  the  seaboard.  Her  hold,  however,  of  this 
great  territory  was  extremely  slight.  She  had  strong 
posts  along  the  chain  of  lakes  from  the  St.  Lawrence 
to  Lake  Superior,  but  between  these  and  Louisiana  her 
supremacy  was  little  more  than  nominal. 

The  Canadian  population  were  frugal  and  hardy,  but 
they  were  deficient  in  enterprise;  and  the  priests,  who 
ruled  them  with  a  rod  of  iron — for  Canada  was  intensely 
Catholic — discouraged  any  movements  which  would  *ake 
their  flocks  from  under  their  charge.  Upon  the  other 
hand,  the  colonists  of  New  England,  Pennsylvania,  and 
Virginia  were  men  of  enterprise  and  energy,  and  their 
traders,  pushing  iil  large  numbers  across  the  Alleghenies, 
carried  on  an  extensive  trade  with  the  Indians  in  the 
valley  of  the  Ohio,  thereby  greatly  exciting  the  jealousy 
of  the  French,  who  feared  that  the  Indians  would  ally 
themselves  with  the  British  colonists,  and  that  the  con- 
nection between  Canada  and  Louisiana  would  be  thereby 
cut. 

The  English  colonists  were  greatly  superior  to  the 


X34 


WITH  WOLFE  IN  CANADA. 


French  in  number;  but  they  labored  under  the  disadvan- 
tage that  the  Colonies  were  wholly  independent  of  each 
other,  with  strong  mutual  jealousies,  which  paralyzed 
their  action  and  prevented  their  embarking  upon  any 
concerted  operations.  Upon  the  other  hand,  Canada 
was  governed  by  the  French  as  a  military  colony.  The 
governor  was  practically  absolute,  and  every  man  capa- 
ble of  bearing  arms  could,  if  necessary,  be  called  by  him 
into  the  field.  He  had  at  his  disposal  not  only  the  wealth 
of  the  colony,  but  large  assistance  from  France,  and  the 
French  agents  were  therefore  able  to  outbid  the  agents 
of  the  British  colonies  with  the  Indians. 

For  years  there  had  been  occasional  troubles  between 
the  New  England  States  and  the  French,  the  latter 
employing  the  Indians  in  harrassing  the  border;  but  until 
the  middle  of  the  eighteenth  century  there  had  been 
nothing  like  a  general  trouble.  In  1749  the  Marquis  of 
Galissoniere  was  governor-general  of  Canada;  the  treaty 
of  Aix-la-Chapelle  had  been  signed;  but  this  had  done 
nothing  to  settle  the  vexed  questions  of  the  boundaries 
between  the  English  and  French  colonies.  Meanwhile 
the  English  traders  from  Pennsylvania  and  Virginia  were 
poaching  on  the  domain  which  France  clai!ned  as  hers, 
ruining  the  French  fur  trade,  and  making  friends  with 
the  Indian  allies  of  Canada.  Worse  still,  farmers  were 
pushing  westward  and  settling  in  the  valley  of  the 
Ohio. 

In  order  to  drive  these  back,  to  impress  the  natives 
with  the  power  of  France,  and  to  bring  them  back  to 
their  allegiance,  the  governor  of  Canada,  in  the  summer 
of  1749,  sent  Celoron  de  Bienville.  He  had  with  him 
fourteen  officers,  twenty  French  soldiers,  a  hundred  and 
eighty  Canadians,  and  a  band  of  Indians.  They  em- 
barked in  twenty-three  birch-bark  canoes,  and,  pushing 
up  the  St.  Lawrence,  reached  Lake  Ontario,  stopping 
for  a  time  at  the  French  fort  of  Frontenac,  and  avoiding 
the  rival  English  port  of  Oswego  on  the  southern  shore, 
where  a  trade  in  beaver  skins  disastrous  to  French  inter- 
ests was  being  carried  on,  for  the  English  tr^d^rs  SQld 


Tirt  DEFEAT  09   BRADDOCtC. 


t$i 


their  goods  at  vastly  lower  prices  than  those  which  the 
French  had  charged. 

On  the  6th  of  July  the  party  reached  Niagara,  where 
'here  was  a  small  French  fort,  and  thence,  carrying  their 
canoes  around  the  cataract,  launched  them  upon  Lake 
Erie.  Landing  again  on  the  southern  shore  of  the  lake, 
they  carried  their  canoes  nine  miles  through  the  forest 
to  Chautauqua  Lake,  and  then  dropped  down  the  stream 
running  out  oi  it  until  they  reached  the  Ohio.  The  fer- 
tile country  here  was  inhabited  by  the  Delawares,  Shaw- 
anoes,  Wyandots,  and  Iroquois,  or  Indians  of  the  Five 
Nations,  who  had  migrated  thither  from  their  original 
territories  in  the  colony  of  New  York.  Further  west, 
on  the  banks  of  the  Miami,  the  Wabash,  and  other 
streams,  was  a  confederacy  of  the  Miamis  and  their  kin- 
dred tribes;  still  further  west  in  the  country  of  the 
Illinois,  near  the  Mississippi,  the  French  had  a  strong 
stone  fort  called  Fort  Chartres,  which  formed  one  of  the 
chief  links  of  the  chain  of  posts  that  connected  Quebec 
with  New  Orleans. 

The  French  missionaries  and  the  French  political 
agents  had  for  seventy  years  labored  hard  to  bring  these 
Indian  tribes  into  close  connection  with  France.  The 
missionaries  had  failed  signally ;  but  the  presents  lavishly 
bestowed  had  inclined  the  tribes  to  the  side  of  their 
donors,  until  the  English  traders  with  their  cheap  goods 
came  pushing  west  ovei'  the  Alleghenies.  They  carried 
their  goods  on  the  backs  of  horses,  and  journeyed  from 
village  to  village,  selling  powder,  rum,  calicoes,  beads, 
and  trinkets.  No  less  than  three  hundred  men  were 
engaged  in  these  enterprises,  and  some  of  them  pushed 
as  far  west  as  the  Mississippi. 

As  the  party  of  Celoron  proceeded  they  nailed  plates 
of  tin  stamped  with  the  arms  of  France  to  trees,  and 
buried  plates  of  lead  near  them  with  inscriptions,  saying 
that  they  took  possession  of  the  land  in  the  name  of 
Louis  XV.,  King  of  France.  Many  of  the  villages  were 
found  to  be  deserted  by  the  natives,  who  fled  at  their 
approach,    At  some;  however,  they  found  English  trad- 


13^ 


WITH   WOLFE  IN  CANADA. 


< , 


ers,  who  were  warned  at  once  to  leave  the  country,  and 
by  some  of  them  letters  were  sent  to  the  governor  of 
Pennsylvania,  in  which  Celoron  declared  that  he  was 
greatly  surprised  to  find  Engli'^hmen  trespassing  in  the 
domain  of  PYance,  and  that  his  orders  were  precise,  to 
leave  no  foreign  traders  within  the  limits  of  the  govern- 
ment of  Canada. 

At  Chiningue,  called  Logstown  by  the  English,  a  large 
number  of  natives  were  gathered,  most  of  thfe  inhabitants 
of  the  deserted  villages  having  sought  refuge  there. 
The  French  were  received  with  a  volley  of  balls  from  the 
shore;  but  they  landed  without  replying  to  the  fire,  and 
hoFtilities  were  avoided.  The  French  kept  guardrail 
night,  and  in  the  morning  Celoron  invited  the  chiefs  to 
a  council,  when  he  told  them  he  had  come  by  the  order 
of  the  governor  to  coen  their  eyes  to  the  designs  of  the 
English  against  their  'ands,  and  that  they  must  be  driven 
away  at  once.  The  reply  of  the  chiefs  was  humble;  but 
they  begged  that  the  English  traders,  of  whom  there 
were  at  that  moment  ten  in  the  town,  might  stay  a  little 
longer,  since  the  goods  they  brought  were  necessary  to 
them. 

After  making  presents  to  the  chiefs  the  party  pro- 
ceeded on  their  way,  putting  up  the  coats  of  arms  and 
burying  the  lead  inscriptions.  At  Scioto  a  large  num- 
ber of  Indians  were  assembled,  and  the  French  were  very 
apprehensive  of  an  attack,  which  would,  doubtless  have 
been  disastrous  to  them,  as  the  Canadians  of  the  party 
were  altogether  unused  to  war.  A  council  was  held, 
however,  at  which  Celoron  could  obtain  no  satisfaction 
whatever,  for  the  interests  of  the  Indians  were  bound 
up  with  the  English. 

There  can  be  no  doubt  that  had  they  been  able  to  look 
into  the  future  every  Indian  on  the  continent  would 
have  joined  the  French  in  their  effort  to  crush  the  Eng- 
lish colonies.  Had  France  remained  master  of  America 
the  Indig^ns  might  even  now  be  roaming  free  and  unmo- 
lested on  the  lands  of  their  forefathers.  France  is  not 
a  colonizing  nation;  she  would  have  traded  with  the 


'"%¥■ 


THE  DfiFfiAT   OP  fiRADDOCK. 


w 


Indians,  would  have  endeavored  to  Christianize  them, 
and  would  have  left  them  their  land  and  freedom,  well 
satisfied  with  the  fact  that  the  flag  of  France  should 
wave  over  so  vast  an  extent  of  country ;  but  on  England 
conquering  the  soil,  her  armies  of  emigrants  pressed 
west,  and  the  red  man  is  fast  becoming  extinct  on  the 
continent  of  which  he  was  once  the  lord* 

Celoron's  expedition  sailed  down  the  Ohio  until  it 
reached  the  mouth  of  the  Miami,  and  toiled  for  thirteen 
days  against  its  shallow  current  until  they  reached  a  vil- 
lage of  the  Miami  Indians,  ruled  over  by  a  chief  called 
by  the  French  La  Demoiselle,  but  whom  the  English, 
whose  fast  friend  he  was,  called  Old  Britain.  He  was 
the  great  chief  of  the  Miami  confederation.  The  Eng- 
lish traders  there  withdrew  at  the  approach  of  the 
French.  The  usual  council  was  held,  and  Celoron  urgecT 
the  chief  to  remove  from  this  location,  which  he  had  but 
newly  adopted,  and  to  take  up  his  abode  with  his  band 
near  the  French  fort  on  the  Maumee.  The  chief  ac- 
cepted the  Frenchman's  gifts,  thanked  him  for  his  good 
advice,  and  promised  to  follow  it  at  a  more  convenient 
time;  but  neither  promises  nor  threats  could  induce  him 
to  stir  at  once. 

No  sooner,  indeed,  had  the  French  departed  than  the 
chief  gathered  the  greater  part  of  the  members  of  the 
confederation  on  that  spot,  until,  in  less  than  two  years 
after  the  visit  of  Celoron,  its  population  had  increased 
eightfold,  and  it  became  one  of  the  gre  test  Indian  towns 
of  the  west  and  the  center  of  English  trade  and  influence. 
Celoron  reached  Miami,  and  then  returned  northward  to 
Lake  Erie,  and  thence  back  to  Montreal,  when  he 
reported  to  the  governor  that  English  influence  was 
supreme  in  the  valley  of  the  Ohio. 

In  the  following  year  a  company  was  formed  in  Ver- 
ginia  for  effecting  a  settlement  in  Ohio,  and  a  party  pro- 
ceeded west  to  the  village  of  the  chief  called  Old 
Britain,  by  whom  they  were  received  with  great  friend- 
ship, and  a  treaty  of  peace  was  solemnly  made  between 
the  English  and  the  Indians.    While  the  festivities  con- 


138 


WITH   WOLFE  IN  CANADA. 


sequent  on  the  affair  were  going  on,  four  Ottawa  Indians 
arrived  from  the  French  with  the  French  flag  and  gifts, 
but  they  were  dismissed  with  an  answer  of  defiance.  If 
at  this  time  the  colonists  could  have  cemented  their 
alliance  with  the  Indians  with  gifts  similar  to  those  with 
which  the  French  endeavored  to  purchase  their  friend- 
ship, a  permanent  peace  with  the  Indians  might  have 
been  established,  but  the  mutual  jealousies  of  the  colo- 
nies and  the  nature  of  the  various  colonial  assemblies 
rendered  any  common  action  impossible.  Pennsylvania 
was  jealous  of  the  westward  advance  of  Virginia,  and 
desired  to  thwart  rather  than  to  assist  her. 

The  governors  of  New  York,  Pennsylvania,  and  Vir- 
ginia were  fully  conscious  of  the  importance  of  the  Indian 
alliance,  but  they  could  do  nothing  without  their  assem- 
blies. Those  of  New  York  and  Pennsylvania  were 
largely  composed  of  tradesmen  and  farmers  absorbed  in 
local  interests,  and  animated  but  by  two  motives,  th 
cutting  down  of  all  expenditure  and  bitter  and  con- 
tinuous opposition  to  the  governor,  who  represented  the 
royal  authority.  Virginia  and  Pennsylvania  quarreled 
about  their  respective  rights  over  the  valley  of  the  Ohio. 
The  assembly  of  New  York  refused  to  join  in  any 
common  action,  saying*,  "  We  will  take  care  of  our 
Indians  and  they  may  take  care  of  theirs."  The  States 
further  removed  from  the  fear  of  any  danger  from  the 
action  of  the  Indians  and  French  were  altogether 
lukewarm. 

Thus  neither  in  the  valley  of  the  Ohio  nor  on  the 
boundaries  of  the  New  England  States  did  the  Indians 
receive  their  promised  gifts,  and  as  the  French  agents 
were  liberal  both  in  presents  and  promises,  the  Indians 
became  discontented  with  their  new  friends  and  again 
turned  their  eyes  toward  France.  Old  Britain,  how- 
ever, remained  firm  in  his  alliance,  and  the  English 
traders,  by  constant  presents  and'by  selling  their  goods 
at  the  lowest  possible  rates,  kept  him  and  his  warriors 
highly  satisfied  and  contented. 

The  French  in  vain  tried  to  stir  up  the  friendly  tribes 


tHE  DEFEAT  OP  BRADDOCIt. 


t3^ 


to  attack  Oswego,  on  Lake  Ontario,  and  the  village  of 
Old  Britain,  which  were  the  two  centers  to  which  the 
Indians  went  to  trade  with  the  EngHsh,  but  they  were 
unsuccessful  until,  in  June,  1752,  Charles  Langdale,  a 
young  French  trader  married  to  a  squaw  at  Green  Bay, 
and  strong  in  influence  with  the  tribes  of  that  region, 
came  down  the  lakes  with  a  fleet  of  canoes  manned  by 
250  Ottawa  and  Ojibwa  warriors.  They  stopped  a  while 
at  the  fort  at  Detijit,  then  paddled  up  the  Maumee  to 
the  next  fort,  and  thence  marched  through  the  forests 
against  the  Miamis. 

They  approached  Old  Britain's  village  in  the  morning. 
Most  of  the  Indians  were  away  on  their  summer  hunt, 
and  there  were  but  eight  English  traders  in  the  place. 
Three  of  these  were  caught  outside  the  village;  the 
remaining  five  took  refuge  in  the  fortified  warehouse 
they  had  built,  and  there  defended  themselves. 

Old  Britain  and  the  little  band  with  him  fought 
bravely,  but  against  such  overwhelming  numbers  could 
do  nothing,  and  fourteen  of  them,  including  their  chief, 
were  killed.  The  five  white  men  defended  themselves  till 
the  afternoon,  when  two  of  them  managed  to  make  their 
escape,  and  the  other  three  surrendered.  One  of  them 
was  already  wounded,  and  was  at  once  killed  by  the 
French  Indians.  Seventy  years  of  the  teaching  of  the 
French  missioparies  had  not  weaned  the  latter  from 
cannibalism,  and  Old  Britain  was  boiled  and  eaten. 

The  Marquise  of  Duquesne,  who  had  succeeded 
Galissoniere  as  governor,  highly  praised  Langdale  for 
the  enterprise,  and  recommended  him  to  the  minister 
at  home  for  reward.  This  bold  enterprise  further  shook 
the  alliance  of  the  Indians  with  the  English,  for  it  seemed 
to  them  that  the  French  were  enterprising  and  energetic, 
while  the  English  were  slothful  and  cowardly  and 
neglected  to  keep  their  agreements.  The  French  con- 
tinued to  build  forts,  and  Dinwiddle,  governor  of  Vir- 
ginia, sent  George  Washington  to  protest  in  his  name 
against  their  building  forts  on  laui  notoriously  belong- 
ing to  the  English  crown. 


140 


WITH  WOLFE  m  CANADA. 


Washington  performed  the  long  and  toilsome  journey 
through  the  forests  at  no  slight  risks,  and  delivered  his 
message  at  the  forts,  but  nothing  came  of  it.  The  gov- 
ernor of  Virginia,  seeing  the  approaching  danger,  made 
the  greatest  efforts  to  induce  the  other  colonies  to  join 
in  common  action;  but  North  Carolina  alone  answered 
the  appeal,  and  gave  money  enough  to  raise  three  or  four 
hundred  men.  Two  independent  companies  maintained 
by  England  in  New  York,  and  one  in  South  Carolina, 
received  orders  to  march  to  Virginia.  The  governor 
had  raised  with  great  difficulty  300  men.  They  were 
called  the  Virginia  Regiment.  An  English  gentleman 
n?>med  Joshua  Fry  was  appointed  the  colonel  and  Wash- 
ington their  major. 

Fry  was  at  Alexandria,  on  the  Potomac,  with  half  the 
regiment.  Washington  with  the  other  half  had  pushed 
forward  to  the  storehouse  at  Wills  Creek,  which  was  to 
form  the  base  of  operations.  Besides  these  Captain 
Trent  with  a  band  of  backwo'xismen  had  crossed  the 
mountain  to  build  a  fort  at  the  forks  of  the  Ohio,  where 
Pittsburg  now  stands.  Trent  had  gone  back  to  Wills 
Creek,  leaving  Ensign  Ward  with  forty  men  at  work 
upon  the  fort,  v/heu,  on  the  17th  of  April,  a  swarm  of 
canoes  came  down  the  Allegheny  with  over  five  hundred 
Frenchmen,  who  planted  cannon  against  the  unfinished 
stockade  and  summoned  the  ensign  to  surrender;  he 
had  no  recourse  but  to  submit,  and  was  allowed  to 
depart  with  his  men  across  the  mountains. 

The  French  at  once  set  to  to  build  a  strong  fort,  which 
they  named  Fort  Duquesne.  While  the  governor  of 
Virginia  had  been  toiling  in  vain  to  get  the  colonists  to 
move,  the  French  had  acted  promptly,  and  the  erection 
of  their  new  fort  at  once  covered  their  line  of  communi- 
cation to  the  west,  barred  the  advance  of  the  English 
down  the  Ohio  valley,  and  secured  the  allegiance  of  all 
the  wavering  Indian  tribes. 

Although  war  had  not  yet  been  declared  between 
England  and  France,  the  colonists,  after  this  seizure  by 
French  soldiers  of  a  fort  over  which  the  English  flag 


THIS  DEF£AT   OF  BRADDOCIC. 


I4f 


was  flying,  henceforth  acted  as  if  the  two  powers  were 
at  war.  Washington  moved  forward  from  Wills  Creek 
with  his  hundred  and  fifty  men,  and  surprised  a  French 
force  which  had  gone  out  scouting. 

Several  of  the  French  were  killed,  and  the  com- 
mander of  Fort  Duquesne  sent  dispatches  to  France  to 
say  that  he  had  sent  this  party  out  with  a  communication 
to  Washington,  and  that  they  had  been  treacherously 
assassinated.  This  obscure  skirmish  was  the  com- 
mencement of  a  war  which  set  two  continents  on  fire. 
Colonel  Fry  died  a  few  days  after  this  fight,  and  Wash- 
ington succeeded  to  the  command  of  the  regiment,  and 
collected  his  300  men  at  Green  Meadow,  where  he  was 
joined  by  a  few  Indians  and  by  a  company  from  South 
Carolina. 

The  French  at  Duquesne  were  quickly  reinforced,  and 
the  command  was  given  to  Coulon  de  Villiers,  the 
brother  of  an  officer  who  had  been  killed  in  the  skirmish 
with  Washington.  He  at  once  advanced  against  the 
English,  who  had  fallen  back  to  a  rough  breastwork 
which  they  called  Fort  Necessity,  Washington  hav- 
ing but  400  men  against  500  French  and  as  many 
Indians. 

For  nine  hours  the  French  kept  up  a  hot  fire  on  thp 
intrenchment  but  without  success,  and  at  nightfall 
Villiers  proposed  a  parley.  The  French  ammunition 
was  running  short,  the  men  were  fatigued  by  their 
marches  and  drenched  by  the  rain  whith  had  been  fall- 
ing the  whole  day.  The  English  were  in  a  still  worse 
plight;  their  powder  was  nearly  spent,  their  guns  were 
foul,  and  among  them  they  had  but  two  cleaning- 
rods.  * 

After  a  parley  it  was  agreed  that  the  English  should 
anarch  off  with  drums  beating  and  the  honors  of  war, 
carrying  with  them  all  their  property;  that  the  prisoners 
taken  in  the  previous  aflfair  should  be  set  free,  two 
officers  remaining  with  the  French  as  hostages  until  they 
were  handed  over.  Washington  and  his  men  arrived 
Utterly  wprn  out  with  fatigue  and  famine  sit  Wills  Creek, 


msmBssmtmsBmmm 


142 


WITH   WOLFE  IN   CANADA^ 


^ 

This  action  left  the  French  masters  of  the  whole  coun- 
try beyond  the  Alleghemies.  The  two  mother  nations 
were  now  preparing  Tor  war,  and  in  the  middle  of  Janu- 
ary* I755»  Major-General  Braddock,  with  the  44th  and 
48th  Regiments,  each  500  strong,  sailed  from  Cork 
for  Virginia,  while  the  French  sent  eighteen  ships  of 
war  and  six  battalions  to  Canada.  Admiral  Bosca- 
wen,  with  eleven  ships  of  the  line  and  one  frigate,  set 
out  to  intercept  the  French  expedition.  The  greater 
part  of  the  fleet  evaded  him,  but  he  came  up  with  three 
of  the  French  men-of-war,  opened  fire  upon  them  and 
captured  thenf.  Up  to  this  time  a  pretense  of  negotia- 
tions had  been  maintained  between  England  and  France, 
but  the  capture  of  the  French  ships  brought  the  nego- 
tiations to  a  sudden  end,  and  the  war  began. 

A  worse  selection  than  that  of  Major-General  Brad- 
dock  could  hardly  have  been  made;  he  was  a  brave 
officer  and  a  good  soldier,  but  he  was  rough,  coarse,  and 
obstinate;  he  utterly  despised  the  colonial  troops,  and 
regarded  all  methods  of  fighting  save  those  pursued  by 
regular  armies  in  the  field  with  absolute  contempt.  To 
send  such  a  man  to  command  troops  destined  to  fight 
in  thick  forests  against  an  enemy  skilled  in  warfare  of 
that  kind  was  to  court  defeat. 

As  might  be  expected,  Braddock  was  very  soon  on  the 
worst  possible  terms  with  the  whole  of  the  colonial 
authorities,  and  the  delays  caused  by  the  indecision  or 
obstinacy  of  the  colonial  assemblies  chafed  him  to  mad- 
ness. At  last,  however,  his  force  was  assembled  at  Wills 
Creek.  The  two  English  regiments  had  been  raised  by 
enlistment  in  Virginia  to  700  men  each.  There  were 
nine  Virginian  companies  of  50  men  and  the  30  sailors 
lent  by  Commodore  Keppel.  General  Braddock  had 
three  aids-de-camp — Captain  Robert  Orme,  Captain 
Roger  Morris,  and  Colonel  George  Washington. 

It  was  the  ist  of  June  when  James  Walsham  rode  with 
Colonel  Washington  into  the  camp,  and  three  days  later 
the  last  companies  of  the  Virginian  corps  marched  in. 
During  the  next  week  some  of  the  English  officers  at- 


THE  DEFEAT   OF   BRADDOCK. 


HI 


tempted  to  drill  the  Virginians  in  the  manner  of  English 
troops. 

"  It  is  a  waste  of  time,"  Colonel  Washington  said  to 
James  one  day  when  he  was  watching  them,  "  and  worse. 
These  men  can  fight  their  own  way,  most  of  them  are 
good  shots  and  have  a  fair  idea  of  forest-fighting;  let 
them  go  their  own  way  and  they  can  be  trusted  to  hold 
their  own  against  at  least  an  equal  number  of  French 
and  Indians,  but  they  would  be  hopelessly  at  sea  if  they 
were  called  upon  to  fight  like  English  regulars.  Most 
likely  the  enemy  will  attack  us  in  the  forest,  and  what 
good  will  forming  in  line,  or  wheeling  on  a  flank,  or  any 
of  the  things  which  the  general  is  trying  to  drum  into 
their  heads  do  to  them?  If  the  French  are  fooHsh 
enough  to  wait  at  Fort  Duquesne  until  we  arrive,  I  have 
no  doubt  we  shall  beat  them,  but  if  they  attack  us  in  the 
woods  it  will  go  hard  with  us." 

During  the  ten  days  which  elapsed  between  his  arrival 
and  the  start  James  was  kept  hard  at  work,  being  for  the 
most  part  employed  galloping  up  and  down  the  road 
tirging  up  the  wagoners,  and  bringing  back  reports  as 
to  their  position  and  progress.  On  the  loth  of  June  the 
army  started ;  300  axmen  led  the  way,  cutting  and  clear- 
ing the  road,  the  long  train  of  pack-horses,  wagons,  and 
cannon  followed;  the  troops  marched  in  the  forest  on 
either  side,  while  men  were  thrown  out  on  the  flanks  and 
scouts  ranged  the  woods  to  guard  against  surprise. 

The  road  was  cut  but  twelve  feet  wide,  and  the  line  of 
march  often  extended  four  miles.  Thus  day  by  day  they 
toiled  on,  crossing  the  Allegheny  Mountains,  range  after 
range,  now  plunging  down  into  a  ravine,  now  ascending 
a  ridge,  but  always  in  the  deep  shadow  of  the  forest.  A 
few  of  the  enemy  hovered  round  them,  occasionally  kill- 
ing a  straggler  who  fell  behind.  On  the  i8th  of  June 
the  army  reached  a  place  called  the  Little  Meadows.  So 
weak  were  the  horses  from  want  of  forage  that  the  last 
marches  had  been  but  three  miles  a  day,  and  upon 
Washington's  advice  Braddock  determined  to  leave  the 
heavy  bagg^age  here  with  the  sick  men  and  a  strong 


M4 


WITH  WOLFE  IN   CANADA. 


guard  under  Colonel  Dunbar  while  he  advanced  with 
1 200  men,  besides  officers  and  drivers.  But  the  progress 
was  still  no  more  than  three  miles  a  day,  and  it  was  not 
until  the  7th  of  July  that  they  arrived  within  eight  miles 
of  the  Freuch  fort. 

Between  them  lay,  however,  an  extremely  difficult 
country  with  a  narrow  defile,  and  Braddock  determined 
to  ford  the  Monongahela  and  then  cross  it  again  lower 
down.  The  garrison  of  Fort  Duquesne  consisted  of  a 
few  companies  of  regular  troops,  some  hundreds  of 
Canadians,  and  800  Indian  warriors.  They  were  kept 
informed  by  the  scouts  of  the  progress  of  the  English, 
and  when  the  latter  approached  the  Monongahela  a 
party  under  Captain  Beaujeu  set  out  to  meet  them.  His 
force  consisted  of  637  Indians,  100  French  officers  and 
soldiers,  and  146  Canadians,  in  all  about  900  men.  At 
one  o'clock  in  the  day  Braddock  crossed  the  Mononga- 
hela for  the  second  time ;  the  troops  had  all  the  day  been 
expecting  the  attack  and  had  prepared  for  it.  At  the 
second  ford  the  army  marched  in  martial  order  with 
music  playing  and  flags  flying.  Once  across  the  river, 
they  halted  for  a  short  time  and  then  again  continued 
their  advance. 

Braddock  made  every  disposition  for  preventing  a 
surprise.  Several  guides  with  six  Virginian  light  horse- 
men led  the  way,  then  came  the  advanced  column  con- 
sisting of  300  soldiers  under  Gage,  and  a  large  body  of 
axmen  under  Sir  John  Sinclair  with  two  cannon.  The 
main  body  followed  close  behind.  The  artillery  and 
wagons  moved  along  the  road,  the  troops  marched 
through  the  woods  on  either  hand,  numerous  flanking 
parties  were  thrown  out  a  hundred  yards  or  more  right 
and  left,  and  in  the  space  between  them  and  the  line  of 
troops  the  pack-horses  and  cattle  made  their  way  as  they 
best  could  among  the  trees.  Beaujeu  had  intended  to 
place  his  men  in  ambuscade  at  the  ford,  but  owing  to 
various  delays  caused  by  the  Indians  he  was  still  a  mile 
away  from  the  ford  when  the  British  crossed.  He  was 
marching  forward  when  he  came  suddenly  upon  the 


THE  DEFEAT  OP  fiRADDOCiC 


«45 


little  pajrty  of  guides  and  Virginian  light  horsemen. 
These  at  once  fell  back,  the  Indians  raised  their  war- 
whoop,  and  spreading  right  and  left  among  the  trees 
opened  a  sharp  fire  upon  the  British. 

Gage's  column  wheeled  deliberately  into  line  and  fired 
volley  after  volley  with  great  steadiness  at  the  invisible 
opponents.  The  greater  part  of  the  Canadians  bolted  at 
once,  but  the  Indians  kept  up  their  fire  from  behind  the 
shelter  of  the  trees.  Gage  brought  up  his  two  cannon 
and  opened  fire,  and  the  Indians,  who  had  a  horror  of 
artillery,  began  also  to  fall  back.  The  English  advanced 
in  regular  lines,  cheering  loudly.  Beaujeu  fell  dead; 
but  Captain  Dumas,  who  succeeded  him  in  command, 
advanced  at  the  head  of  his  small  party  of  French  sol- 
diers and  opened  a  heavy  fire. 

The  Indians,  encouraged  by  the  example,  rallied  and 
again  came  forward,  and  while  the. French  regulars  and 
the  few  Canadians  who  had  not  fled  held  the  ground  in 
front  of  the  column,  the  Indians  swarmed  through  the 
forests  along  both  flanks  of  the  English,  and  from  behind 
trees,  bushes,  and  rocks  opened  a  withering  fire  upon 
them.  The  troops,  bewildered  and  amazed  by  the  fire 
poured  into  them  by  an  invisible  foe  and  by  the  wild 
war-whoops  of  the  Indians,  ceased  to  advance,  and 
standing  close  together  poured  fruitlessly  volley  after 
volley  into  the  surrounding  forest. 

On  hearing  the  firing,  Braddock,  leaving  400  men  in 
the  rear  under  Sir  Peter  Halket  to  guard  the  baggage, 
advanced  with  the  main  body  to  support  Gage;  but  just 
as  he  came  up  the  soldiers,  appalled  by  the  fire  which 
was  mowing  them  down  in  scores,  abandoned  their  can- 
non and  fell  back  in  confusion.  This  threw  the  advanc- 
ing force  into  disorder,  and  the  two  regiments  became 
mixed  together,  massed  in  several  dense  bodies  within 
a  small  space  of  ground,  facing  some  one  way  and  some 
another,  all  alike  exposed  without  shelter  to  the  hail  of 
bullets.  Men  and  officers  were  alike  new  to  warfare 
like  this;  they  had  been  taught  to  fight  in  line  against 
solid  masses  of  the  enemy,  and  against  an  invisible  foe 


14^ 


WITH   WOLPft  !N  OaMADA. 


like  the  present  they  were  helpless.  The  Virginians 
alone  were  equal  to  the  emergency.  They  at  once 
adopted  their  familiar  forest  tactics,  and  taking  their 
post  behind  trees  began  to  fight  the  Indians  in  their  own 
way. 

Had  Braddock  been  a  man  of  judgment  and  temper 
the  fortunes  of  the  day  might  yet  have  been  retrieved, 
for  the  Virginians  could  have  checked  the  Indians  until 
the  English  troops  were  rallied  and  prepared  to  meet 
the  difficulty;  but  to  Braddock  the  idea  of  fighting  be- 
hind trees  v/as  at  once  cowardly  and  opposed  to  all  mili- 
tary discipline,  and  he  dashed  forward  on  his  horse  and 
with  fierce  oaths  ordered  the  Virginians  to  form  line.  A 
body  of  them,  however,  under  Captain  Waggoner,  made 
a  dash  for  a  huge  fallen  tree  far  out  toward  the  lurking- 
places  of  the  Indians,  and  crouching  behind  it  opened 
fire  upon  them;  but  the  regulars  seeing  the  smoke 
among  the  bushes  took  them  for  the  enemy,  and  firing 
killed  many  and  forced  the  rest  to  return. 

A  few  of  the  soldiers  tried  to  imitate  the  Indians  and 
fight  behind  the  trees,  but  Braddock  beat  them  back  with 
the  flat  of  his  sword  and  forced  them  to  stand  with  the 
others,  who  were  now  huddled  in  a  mass  forming  a  tar- 
get for  the  enemy's  bullets.  Lieutenant-Colonel  Burton 
led  loo  of  them  toward  a  knoll  from  which  the  puffs 
came  thickest,  but  he  fell  wounded,  and  his  men,  on 
whom  the  enemy  instantly  concentrated  their  fire,  fell 
back.  The  soldiers,  powerless  against  the  unseen  foe — 
for  afterward  some  of  the  officers  and  men  who  escaped 
declared  that  throughout  the  whole  fight  they  had  not 
seen  a  single  Indian — discharged  their  guns  aimlessly 
among  the  trees. 

They  were  half  stupefied  now  with  the  terror  and  con- 
fusion of  the  scene,  the  rain  of  bullets,  the  wild  yells 
which  burst  ceaselessly  from  their  600  savage  foemen; 
i»*hile  the  horses,  wild  with  terror  and  wounds,  added  to 
the  confusion  by  dashing  madly  hither  and  thither. 
Braddock  behaved  with  furious  intrepidity;  he  dashed 
hither  and  thither  shouting  and  storming  at  the  men 


THE  DEFEAT   OP   BRADDOCK. 


HI 


and  striving  to  get  them  in  order  and  to  lead  them  to 
attack  the  enemy.  Four  horses  were  one  after  the  other 
shot  under  him;  his  officers  behaved  with  equal  courage 
and  self-devotion,  and  in  vain  attempted  to  lead  on  the 
men,  sometimes  advancing  in  parties  toward  the  Indians 
in  hopes  that  the  soldiers  would  follow  them.  Sir  Peter 
Halket  was  killed;  Home  and  Morris  the  two  aids-de- 
camp, Sinclair  the  quartermaster-general,  Gates,  Gage, 
and  Gladwin  were  wounded.  Of  86  officers  63  were 
killed  or  disabled,  while  of  1373  non-commissioned 
officers  and  privates  only  459  came  oflf  unharmed. 

James  Walsham  had  been  riding  by  the  side  of  Wash- 
ington when  the  fight  began,  and  followed  him  closely 
as  he  galloped  among  the  troops  trying  to  rally  and  lead 
them  forward.  Washington's  horse  was  pierced  by  a 
ball  and,  staggering,  fell.  James  leaped  from  his  horse 
and  gave  it  to  the  colonel,  and  then,  seeing  that  there 
was  nothing  for  him  to  do,  withdrew  a  short  distance 
from  the  crowd  of  soldiers  and  crouched  down  between 
the  trunks  of  two  great  trees  growing  close  to  each 
other,  one  of  which  protected  him  for  the  most  part  from 
the  fire  of  the  Indians  and  the  other  from  the  not  less 
dangerous  fire  of  the  English. 

Presently,  seeing  a  soldier  fall  at  a  short  distance  from 
him,  he  ran  out  and  picked  up  his  musket  and  cartridge- 
box  and  began  to  fire  at  the  bushes  where  the  puffs  of 
smoke  showed  that  men  were  in  hiding.  After  three 
hours'  passive  endurance  of  this  terrible  fire,  Braddock, 
seeing  that  all  was  lost,  commanded  a  retreat,  and  he  and 
such  officers  as  were  left  strove  to  draw  off  the  soldiers 
in  some  semblance  of  order;  but  at  this  moment  a  bullet 
struck  him,  and  passing  through  his  arm  penetrated  his 
.  lungs,  and  he  fell  from  his  horse.  He  demanded  to  be- 
'  left  where  he  lay,  but  Captain  Stewart,  of  the  Virginians, 
and  one  of  his  men  bore  him  between  them  to  the  rear. 

The  soldiers  had  now  spent  all  their  ammunition,  and, 
no  longer  kept  in  their  plaees  by  their  general,  broke 
away  in  a  wild  panic.  Washington's  second  horse  had 
now  been  shot,  and  as,  trying  to  check  the  men,  he 


148 


WITH  WOLFE  m  CANADA. 


passed  the  trees  where  James  had  taken  up  His  position, 
the  latter  joined  him.  In  vain  Washington  and  his 
other  officers  tried  to  rally  the  men  at  the  ford.  They 
dashed  across  itj  wild  with  fear,  leaving  their  wounded 
comrades,  cannon,  baggage,  and  military  chest  a  prey  co 
the  Indians. 

Fortunately  only  about  50  of  the  Indians  followed  as 
far  as  the  ford,  the  rest  being  occupied  in  killing  the 
wounded  and  scalping  the  dead.  Dumas,  who  had  now 
but  20  Frenchmen  left,  fell  back  to  the  fort,  and  the 
remnants  of  Braddock's  force  continued  the  flight 
unmolested. 


CHAPTER  X. 


THE   FIGHT   AT  LAKE   GEORGE. 

• 

Fortunate  was  it  for  the  remnant  of  Braddock's 
force  that  the  Indians  were  too  much  occupied  in  gather- 
ing the  abundant  harvest  of  scalps,  too  anxious  to  return 
to  the  fort  to  exhibit  these  trophies  of  their  bravery,  to 
press  on  in  pursuit;  for  had  they  done  so  few  indeed  of 
the  panic-stricken  fugitives  would  ever  have  lived  to  tell 
the  tale.  All  night  these  continued  their  flight,  expect- 
ing every  moment  to  hear  the  dreaded  war-whoop  burst 
out  again  in  the  woods  round  them. 

Colonel  Washington  had  been  ordered  by  the  dying 
general  to  press  on  on  horseback  to  the  camp  of  Dunbar, 
and  to  tell  him  to  forward  wagons,  provisions,  and 
ammunition;  but  the  panic  which  had  seized  the  main 
force  had  already  been  spread  by  flying  teamsters  to 
Dunbar's  camp;  many  soldiers  and  wagoners  at  once 
took  flight,  and  the  panic  was  heightened  when  the  rem- 
nants of  Braddock's  force  arrived.  There  was  no  reason 
to  suppose  that  they  were  pursued,  and  even  had  they 
been  so  their  force  was  ample  to  repel  any  attack  that 
could  be  made  upon  it;  but  probably  their  commander 
saw  that  in  their  present  state  of  utter  demoralization 


Tkfi  notir  At  tAKt  dftOftGfi. 


U^ 


eo  as 
the 

now 
the 

ight 


they  could  not  be  trusted  to  fight,  and  that  the  first  In- 
dian war-whoop  would  start  them  again  in  flight.  Still 
it  was  clear  that  a  retreat  would  leave  the  whole  border 
open  to  the  ravages  of  the  Indians,  and  Colonel  Dunbar 
was  greatly  blamed  for  the  course  he  took. 

A  hundred  wagons  were  burned,  the  cannon  and 
shells  burst,  and  the  barrels  of  powder  emptied  into  the 
stream,  the  stores  of  provisions  scattered  through  the 
woods,  and  then  the  force  began  its  retreat  over  the 
mountains  to  Fort  Cumberland,  sixty  miles  away.  Gen- 
eral Braddock  died  the  day  that  the  retreat  began;  his 
last  words  were,  "  We  shall  know  better  how  to  deal 
with  them  next  time."  The  news  of  the  disaster  came 
like  a  thunderbolt  upon  the  colonists;  success  had  been 
regarded  as  certain,  and  the  news  that  some  fourteen 
hundred  English  troops  had  been  utterly  routed  by  a 
body  of  French  and  Indians  of  half  their  strength 
seemed  almost  incredible.  The  only  consolation  was 
that  the  hundred  and  fifty  Virginians  who  had  accom- 
panied the  regulars  had  all,  as  was  acknowledged  by  the 
English  officers  themselves,  fought  with  the  greatest 
bravery,  and  had  kept  their  coolness  and  presence  of 
mind  till  the  last,  and  that  on  them  no  shadow  of  the 
discredit  of  the  aflfair  rested.  Indeed,  it  was  said  that 
the  greatest  part  were  killed  not  by  the  fire  of  the  In- 
dians, but  by  that  of  the  troops,  who,  standing  in  masses, 
fired  in  all  directions,  regardless  of  what  was  in  front  of 
them. 

But  Colonel  Dunbar,  not  satisfied  with  retreating  to 
the  safe  shelter  of  Fort  Cumberland,  to  the  amazement 
of  the  colonists  insisted  upon  withdrawing  with  his  own 
force  to  Philadelphia,  leaving  the  whole  of  the  frontier 
open  to  the  assaults  of  the  hostile  Indians.  After  wait- 
ing a  short  time  at  Philadelphia  he  marched  slowly  on  to 
join  a  force  operating  against  the  French  in  the  region 
of  Lake  Geor.2:e,  more  than  two  hundred  miles  to  the 
north.  He  took  with  him  only  the  regulars,  the  provin- 
cial regiments  being,  under  the  control  of  the  governors 
of  their  own  States.    Washington  therefore  remained 


ts^ 


WITH  WOIPE  m  CANADA. 


behind  in  Virginia  with  the  regiment  of  that  colony. 
The  blanks  made  in  Braddock's  fight  were  filled  up,  and 
the  force  raised  to  a  thousand  strong.  With  these  he 
was  to  protect  a  frontier  of  three  hundred  and  fifty  miles 
long  against  an  active  and  enterprising  foe  more  numer- 
ous than  himself,  and  who,  acting  on  the  other  side  of 
the  mountain  and  in  the  shade  of  the  deep  forests,  could 
choose  their  own  time  of  attack  and  launch  themselves 
suddenly  upon  any  village  throughout  the  whole  length 
of  the  frontier. 

Nor  were  the  troops  at  his  disposal  the  material  which 
a  commander  would  wish  to  have  in  his  hand.  Indi- 
vidually they  were  brave,  but  being  recruited  among  the 
poor  whiter,  the  most  turbulent  and  troublesome  part  of 
the  population,  they  were  wholly  unamenable  to  disci- 
pline, and  Washington  had  no  means  whatever  for  en- 
forcing it.  He  applied  to  tae  House  of  Assembly  to 
pass  a  law  enabling  him  to  punish  disobedience,  but  for 
months  they  hesitated  to  pass  any  such  ordinance,  on 
the  excuse  that  it  would  trench  on  the  liberty  of  free 
white  men. 

The  service,  indeed,  was  most  unpopular,  and  Wash- 
ington, whose  headquarters  were  at  Winchester,  could 
do  nothing  whatever  to  assist  the  settlements  on  thft 
border.  His  officers  were  as  unruly  as  the  men,  and  he 
was  further  hampered  by  having  to  comply  with  the 
orders  of  Governor  Dinwiddle  at  Williamsburg,  two 
hundred  miles  away. 

"  What  do  you  mean  to  do? "  he  had  asked  James 
Walsham  the  day  that  the  beaten  army  arrived  at  Fort 
Cumberland. 

"  I  do  not  know,"  James  said.  "  I  certainly  will  not 
continue  with  Dunbar,  who  seems  to  me  to  be  acting  like 
a  coward;  nor  do  I  wish  to  go  into  action  with  regulars 
again,  not,  at  least,  until  they  have  been  taught  that  if 
they  are  to  fight  Indians  successfully  in  the  forests  they 
must  abandon  all  their  traditions  of  drill,  and  must  fight 
in  Indian  fashion.  I  should  like  to  stay  with  you  if  you 
,will  allow  me." 


THE  FIGHT  AT  LAKE  GEORGE. 


'i« 


"  I  should  be  very  glad  to  have  you  with  me,"  Wash- 
ington said;  **  but  I  do  not  think  that  you  will  see  much 
action  here ;  it  will  be  a  war  of  forays.  The  Indians  will 
pounce  upon  a  village  or  solitary  farmhouse,  murder  and 
scalp  the  inhabitants,  burn  the  buildings  to  the  ground, 
and  in  an  hour  be  far  away  beyond  the  reach  of  pursuit. 
All  that  I  can  do  is  to  occupy  the  chief  roads  by  which 
they  can  advance  into  the  heart  of  the  colony,  and  the 
people  of  the  settlements  lying  west  of  that  must,  per- 
force, abandon  their  homesteads  and  fly  east  until  we  are 
strong  enough  to  again  take  up  the  offensive.  Were  I 
in  your  place  I  would  at  once  take  horse  and  ride  north. 
You  will  then  be  in  plenty  of  time,  if  inclined,  to  join  in 
the  expedition  against  the  French  on  Fort  George,  or  in 
that  which  is  going  to  march  on  Niagara.  I  fancy  the 
former  will  be  ready  first.  You  will  find  things  better 
managed  there  than  here.  The  colonists  in  that  part 
have  for  many  years  been  accustomed  to  Indian-fight- 
ing, and  they  will  nof  be  hampered  by  having  regular 
troops  with  them,  whose  officers'  only  idea  of  warfare  is 
to  keep  their  men  standing  in  line  as  targets  for  the 
enemy.  There  are  many  bodies  of  experienced  scouts 
to  which  you  can  attach  yourself,  and  you  will  see  that 
white  men  can  beat  the  Indians  at  their  ov/n  game." 

Although  sorry  to  leave  the  young  Virginian  officer, 
James  Walsham  thought  that  he  could  not  do  better 
than  follow  his  advice;  and  accordingly  the  next  day, 
having  procured  another  horse,  he  set  off  to  join  the 
column  destined  to  operate  on  the  lakes. 

The  prevision  of  Washington  was  shortly  realized, 
and  a  cloud  of  red  warriors  descended  on  the  border 
settlements,  carrying  murder,  rapine,  and  ruin  before 
the.m.  Scores  of  quiet  settlements  were  destroyed,  hun- 
dreds of  men,  women,  and  children  massacred,  and  in  a 
short  time  the  whole  of  the  outlying  farms  were  deserted, 
and  crowds  of  weeping  fugitives  flocked  eastward  behind 
the  line  held  by  Washington's  regiment. 

But  bad  as  affairs  were  in  Virginia,  those  in  Penn- 
sylvania  were   infinitely  worse.    They   had   for   many 


ts« 


Wlttt  WOLt-fi  IN  CANADA. 


years  been  on  such  friendly  terms  with  the  Indians  that 
many  of  the  settlers  had  no  arms,  nor  had  they  the  pro- 
tection in  the  way  of  troops  which  the  government  of 
Virginia  put  upon  the  frontier.  The  government  of  the 
colony  was  at  Philadelphia,  far  to  the  east,  and  sheltered 
from  danger,  and  the  Quaker  assembly  there  refused  to 
vote  money  for  a  single  soldier  to  protect  the  unhappy 
colonists  on  the  frontier.  They  held  it  a  sin  to  fight, 
and  above  all  to  fight  with  Indians,  and  as  long  as  they 
themselves  were  free  from  the  danger,  they  turned  a 
deaf  ear  to  the  tales  of  massacre  and  to  the  pitiful  cries 
for  aid  which  came  from  the  frontier.  But  even  greater 
than  their  objection  to  war  was  their  passion  of  resist- 
ance to  the  representative  of  royalty,  the  governor. 

Petition  after  petition  came  from  the  border  for  arms 
and  ammunition,  and  for  a  militia  law  to  enable  the 
people  to  organize  and  defend  themselves;  but  the 
Quakers  resisted,  declaring  that  Braddock's  defeat  was 
a  just  judgment  upon  him  and  his  soldiers  for  molesting 
the  French  in  their  settlement  in  Ohio.  They  passed, 
indeed,  a  bill  for  raising  fifty  thousand  pounds  for  the 
king's  use,  but  affixed  to  it  a  condition  to  which  they 
knew  well  the  governor  could  not  assent,  viz.,  that  the 
proprietary  lands  were  to  pay  their  share  of  the  tax. 

To  this  condition  the  governor  was  unable  to  assent, 
for  according  to  the  constitution  of  the  colony,  :o  which 
he  was  bound,  the  lands  of  William  Penn  and  his 
descendants  were  free  of  all  taxation.  For  weeks  the' 
dead-lock  continued;  every  day  brought  news  of  mas- 
sacres of  tens,  fifties,  and  even  hundreds  of  persons,  but 
the  assembly  remained  obstinate  until  the  mayor,  alder- 
men, and  principal  citizens  clamored  against  them,  and 
four  thousand  frontiersmen  started  on  their  march  to 
Philadelphia  to  compel  them  to  take  measures'  for 
d-efense. 

Bodies  of  massacred  men  were  brought  from  the 
frontier  villages  and  paraded  through  the  town,  and  so 
threatening  became  the  aspect  of  the  population  that  the 


THE  FIGHT   AT   LAKE   GEORGE. 


>53 


assembly  of  Quakers  were  at  last  obliged  to  pass  a 
militia  law.  It  was,  however,  an  absolutely  useless  one; 
it  specially  excepted  the  Quakers  from  service,  and  coi^ 
strained  nobody,  but  declared  it  lawful  for  such  as  chose 
to  form  themselves  into  companies,  and  to  elect  officers 
by  ballot.  The  company  officers  might,  if  they  saw  fit; 
elect,  also  by  ballot,  colonels,  lieutenant-colonels,  and 
majors.  These  last  might  then,  in  conjunction  with  the 
governor,  frame  articles  of  war,  to  which,  however,  no 
officer  or  man  was  to  be  subjected  unless,  after  three 
days'  consideration,  he  subscribed  them  in  presence  of  a 
justice  of  the  peace  and  declared  his  willingness  to  be 
bound  by  them. 

This  mockery  of  a  bill,  drawn  by  Benjamin  Franklirr 
while  the  savages  were  raging  in  the  colony  and  the 
smoke  of  a  hundrecf  villages  was  ascending  to  the  skies, 
v/as  received  with  indignation  b>  the  people,  and  this 
rose  to  such  a  height  that  the  assembly  must  have 
yielded  unconditionally  had  not  a  circumstance  occurred 
which  gave  them  a  decent  pretext  for  retreat.  The  gov- 
ernor informed  them  that  he  had  just  received  a  letter 
from  the  proprietors,  as  Penn's  heirs  were  called,  giving 
to  the  province  five  thousand  pounds  to  aid  in  its  de- 
fense, on  condition  that  the  money  should  be  accepted 
as  a  free  gift  and  not  as  their  proportion  of  any  tax  that 
was  or  might  be  laid  by  the  assembly. 

Thereupon  the  assembly  struck  out  the  clause  taxing 
the  proprietary  estates,  and  the  governor  signed  the  bill. 
A  small  force  was  then  raised  which  enabled  the  Indians 
to  be  to  some  extent  kept  in  check;  but  there  was  no 
safety  for  the  unhappy  settlers  in  the  west  of  Pennsyl- 
vania during  the  next  three  years,  while  the  French  from 
Montreal  were  hounding  on  their  savage  allies  by  gifts 
and  rewards  to  deeds  of  massacre  and  bloodshed.  The 
northern  coloni|s  had  shown  a  better  spirit.  Massa- 
chusetts, whicli  had  always  been  the  foremost  of  the 
northern  colonies  in  resisting  French  and  Indian  aggres- 
sion, had  at  once  taken  the  lead  in  preparation  for  war. 
No  less  than  4500  men,  being  one  in  eight  of  her  adult 


IS4 


WITH    WOLFE    IN    CANADA. 


males,  volunteered  to  fight  the  French,  and  enlisted  for 
the  various  expeditions,  some  in  the  pay  of  the  province; 
some  in  that  of  the  king. 

Shirley,  the  governor  of  Massachusetts,  himself  a  colo- 
nist, was  requested  by  his  assembly  to  nominate  the 
commander.  He  did  not  choose  an  officer  of  that  prov- 
ince, as  this  would  have  excited  the  jealousy  of  the  others, 
but  nominated  William  Johnson  of  New  York — a  choice 
which  not  only  pleased  that  important  province,  but  had 
great  influence  in  securing  the  alliance  of  the  Indians  of 
the  Five  Nations,  among  whom  Johnson,  who  had  held 
the  post  of  Indian  commissioner,  was  extremely  popular. 

Connecticut  voted  1200  men.  New  Hampshire  500, 
Rhode  Island  400,  and  New  York  800,  all  at  tHeir  own 
charge.  Johnson,  before  assuming  the  command,  invited 
the  warriors  of  the  Five  Nations  ta  assemble  in  council. 
Eleven  hundred  Indian  warriors  answered  the  invitation, 
and,  after  the  four  days'  ipeech-making,  agreed  to  join. 
Only  300  of  them,  however,  took  the  field,  for  so  many  of 
their  friends  and  relatives  were  fighting  for  the  French 
that  the  rest,  when  they  sobered  down  after  the  excite- 
ment of  the  council,  returned  to  their  homes. 

The  object  of  the  expedition  was  the  attack  of  Crown 
Point — an  important  military  post  on  Lake  Champlain — 
arid  the  colonists  assembled  near  Albany ;  but  there  were 
great  delays.  The  five  colonial  assemblies  controlled 
their  own  troops  and  supplies.  Connecticut  refused  to 
send  her  men  until  Shirley  promised  that  her  command- 
ing officer  should  rank  next  to  Johnson,  and  the  whole 
movement  was  for  some  time  at  a  dead-lock  because  the 
five  governments  could  not  agree  about  their  contribu- 
tions of  artillery  and  store. 

The  troops  were  a  rough-looking  body.  Only  one  of 
the  corps  had  a  blue  uniform,  faced  with  red;  the  rest 
wore  their  ordii*ary  farm  clothing.  All  had  brought  their 
own  guns  of  every  description  and  fashion.  They  had 
no  bayonets,  but  carried  hatchets  in  their  belts  as  a  sort 
of  substitute.  In  point  of  morals  the  army,  composed 
almost  entirely  of  farmers  and  f^rmer^*  3Qns,  was  exem* 


THE   FIGHT   AT   LAKE   GEORGE. 


155 


plary.  It  is  recorded  that  not  a  chicken  was  stolen.  In 
the  camps  of  the  Puritan  soldiers  of  New  England  ser- 
mons were  preached  twice  a  week,  and  there  were  daily 
prayers  and  much  singing  of  psalms;  but  these  good 
people  were  much  shocked  by  the  profane  language  of 
the  troops  from  New  York  and  Rhode  Island,  and  some 
prophesied  that  disaster  would  be  sure  to  fall  upon  the 
army  from  this  cause. 

Months  were  consumed  in  various  delays;  and  on  the 
2 1  St  of  August,  just  as  they  were  moving  forward,  four 
Mohawks,  whom  Johnson  had  sent  into  Canada,  returned 
with  the  news  that  the  French  were  making  great 
preparations  and  that  8000  men  were  marching  to 
defend  Crown  Point.  The  papers  of  General  Braddock, 
which  fell  with  all  the  baggage  of  the  army  into  the 
"hands  of  the  French,  had  informed  them  of  the  object 
of  the  gathering  at  Albany,  and  now  that  they  had  no 
fear  of  any  further  attempt  against  their  posts  in  Ohio, 
they  were  able  to  concentrate  all  their  force  for  the 
defense  of  their  posts  on  Lake  Champlain. 

On  the  receipt  of  this  alarming  news  a  council  of  war 
was  held  at  Albany,  and  messages  were  sent  to  the  colo- 
nies asking  for  reinforcements.  In  the  meantime  the 
army  moved  up  the  Hudson  to  the  spot  called  the  Great 
Carrying-place,  where  Colonel  Lyman,  who  was  second 
in  command,  had  gone  forward  a  d  erected  a  fort,  which 
his  men  called  after  him,  but  was  afterward  nameji  Fort 
Edward. 

James  Walsham  joined  the  army  a  few  days  before  it 
moved  forward.  Ke  was  received  with  great  heartiness 
by  General  Johnson,  to  whom  he  brought  a  letter  of 
introduction  from  Colonel  Washington,  and  who  at  once 
offered  him  a  position  as  one  of  his  aids-de-camp.  This 
he  found  exceedingly  pleasant,  for  Johnson  was  one  of 
the  most  jovial  and  open-hearted  of  commanders.  His 
hospitality  was  profuse,  and  his  private  means  being 
large,  he  was  able  to  keep  a  capital  table,  which,  on  the 
line  of  march,  all  officers  who  happened  to  pass  by  were 
invited  tp  share.    This  was  a  contrast,  indeed,  to  the 


i 


..:  t 


'56 


WITH   WOLFE   IN   CANADA. 


discipline  which  had  prevailed  in  Braddock's  columns, 
and  James  felt  as  if  he  were  starting  upon  a  great  picnic 
rather  than  upon  an  arduous  march  against  a  superior 
force. 

After  some  hesitation  as  to  the  course  the  army  should 
take,  it  was  resolved  to  march  for  Lake  George.  Gangs 
of  axmen  were  sent  to  hew  a  way,  and  on  the  26th  2000 
men  marched  for  the  lake,  while  Colonel  Blanchard,  of 
New  Hampshire,  remained  with  500  to  finish  and  defend 
Fort  Lyman.  The  march  was  made  in  a  leisurely 
manner,  and  the  force  took  two  days  to  traverse  the  four- 
teen miles  between  Fort  Lyman  and  the  lake.  They 
were  now  in  a  country  hitherto  untrodden  by  white  men 
save  by'solitary  hunters. 

They  reached  the  southern  end  of  the  beautiful  lake, 
which  hitherto  had  received  no  English  name,  and  was 
now  first  called  Lake  George  in  honor  of  the  king.  The 
men  set  to  work  and  felled  trees  until  they  had  cleared 
a  sufficient  extent  of  ground  for  their  camp  by  the  edge 
of  the  water,  and  posted  themselves  with  their  back  to 
the  lake.  In  their  front  was  a  forest  of  pitch-pine,  on 
their  right  a  marsh  covered  with  thick  brushwood,  on 
their  left  a  low  hill.  Things  went  on  in  the  same  leis- 
urely way  which  had  marked  the  progress  of  the  expedi- 
tion. No  attempt  was  made  to  clear  away  the  forest  in 
front,  although  it  would  afford  excellent  cover  for  any 
enemy  who  might  attack  them,  nor  were  any  efforts 
made  to  discover  the  whereabouts  or  intention  of  the 
enemy. 

Every  day  wagons  came  up  with  provisions  and  boats. 
On  September  7  an  Indian  scout  arrived  about  sunset 
and  reported  that  he  had  found  the  trail  of  a  body  of  men 
moving  from  South  Bay,  the  southern  extremity  of  Lake 
Champlain,  toward  Fort  Lyman.  Johnson  called  for  a 
volunteer  to  carry  a  letter  of  warning  to  Colonel 
Blanchard.  A  wagoner  named  Adams  offered  to  under- 
take the  perilous  service  and  rode  off  with  the  letter. 
Sentries  were  posted  and  the  camp  fell  asleep. 

While  Johnson  had  been  taking  his  leisure  on  Lake 


THE  FloiiT    AT  LAKE  GEORGE. 


»S7 


Dlumns, 
t  picnic 
uperior 

should 
Gangs 

th  2000 

lard,  of 
defend 
eisurely 
le  four- 
They 
ite  men 

ul  lake, 
nd  was 
;,  The 
cleared 
le  edge 
back  to 


George  the  commander  of  the  French  force,  a  German 
baron  named  Dieskau,  was  preparing  a  surprise  for  him. 
He  had  reached  Crown  Point  at  the  head  of  3573  men 
— regulars,  Canadians,  and  Indians — and  he  at  once 
moved  forward  with  the  greater  portion  of  his  command 
on  Cariolon,  or,  as  it  was  afterward  called,  Ticonderoga, 
a  promontory  at  the  junction  of  Lake  George  with  Lake 
Champlain,  where  he  would  bar  the  advance  of  the  Eng- 
lish whichever  road  they  might  take.  The  Indians  with 
the  French  caused  great  trouble  to  their  commander, 
doing  nothing  but  feast  and  sleep,  but  on  September  4 
a  party  of  them  came  in  bringing  a  scalp  and  an  Eng- 
lish prisoner  caught  near  Fort  Lyman. 

He  was  questioned  under  the  threat  of  being  given 
over  to  the  Indians  to  torture  if  he  did  not  tell  the  truth, 
but  the  brave  fellow,  thinking  he  should  lead  the  enemy 
into  a  trap,  told  them  that  the  English  army  had  fallen 
back  to  Albany,  leaving  500  men  at  Fort  Lyman,  which 
he  represented  as  being  entirely  indefensible. 

Dieskau  at  once  determined  to  attack  that  place,  and 
with  216  regulars  of  the  battalions  of  Languedoc  and  La 
Reine,  684  Canadians,  and  about  600  Indians,  started  in 
canoes  and  advanced  up  Lake  Champlain  till  they  came 
to  the  end  of  South  Bay.  Each  officer  and  man  carried 
provisions  for  eight  days  in  his  knapsack.  Two  days' 
march  brought  them  to  within  three  miles  of  Fort  Ly- 
man, and  they  encamped  close  to  the  road  which  led  to 
Lake  George.  Just  after  they  had  encamped  a  man  rode 
by  on  horseback.  It  was  Adams,  Johnson's  messenger. 
He  was  shot  by  the  Indians  and  the  letter  found  upon 
him.  Soon  afterward  ten  or  twelve  wagons  appeared 
in  charge  of  ammunition  drivers  who  had  left  the  Eng- 
lish camp  without  orders. 

Some  of  the  drivers  were  shot,  two  taken  prisoners, 
and  the  rest  ran  away.  The  two  prisoners  declared  that, 
contrary  to  the  assertion  of  the  prisoner  at  Ticonderoga, 
a  large  force  lay  encamped  by  the  lake.  The  Indians 
held  a  council,  and  presently  informed  Dieskau  that  they 
would  not  attack  the  fort,  which  they  believed  to  be  pro- 


'S« 


WITH  WOLF£  m  CANADA. 


vided  with  cannon,  but  would  join  in  an  attempt  on  the 
camp  by  the  lake.  Dieskau  judged  from  the  report  of 
the  prisoners  that  the  colonists  considerably  outnum- 
bered him,  although,  in  fact,  there  was  no  great  difference 
in  numerical  strength,  the  French  column  numbering 
1500  and  the  Colonial  force  2200,  besides  300  Mohawk 
Indians.  But  Dieskau,  emulous  of  repeating  the  defeat 
of  Braddock,  and  believing  the  assertions  of  the  Cana- 
dians that  the  colonial  militia  was  contemptible,  deter- 
mined to  attack,  and  early  in  the  morning  the  column 
moved  along  the  road  toward  the  lake. 

When  within  four  miles  of  Johnson's  camp  they 
entered  a  rugged  valley.  On  their  right  was  a  gorge 
hidden  in  bushes,  beyond  which  rose  the  rocky  height 
of  French  Mountain.  On  their  left  rose  gradually  the 
slopes  of  West  Mountain.  The  ground  was  thickly  cov- 
ered with  thicket  and  forest.  The  regulars  marched 
along  the  road;  the  Canadians  and  Indians  pushed  their 
way  through  the  woods  as  best  they  could.  When 
within  three  miles  of  the  lake  their  scout  brought  in 
a  prisoner,  who  told  them  that  an  English  column  was 
approaching.  The  regulars  were  halted  on  the  road; 
the  Canadians  and  Indians  moved  on  ahead  and  hid 
themselves  in  ambush  among  the  trees  and  bushes  on 
either  side  of  the  road. 

The  wagoners  who  had  escaped  the  evening  before 
had  reached  Johnson's  camp  about  rnidnight  and  re- 

Eorted  that  there  was  a  party  on  the  road  near  Fort 
,yman. 

A  council  of  war  was  held,  and  under  an  entire  mis- 
conception of  the  force  of  the  enemy,  and  the  belief  that 
they  would  speedily  fall  back  from  Fort  Lyman,  it  was 
determined  to  send  out  two  detachments,  each  500 
strong,  one  toward  Fort  Lyman,  the  other  to  catch  the 
enemy  in  their  retreat.  Hendrick,  the  chief  of  the  Mo- 
hawks, expressed  his  strong  disapproval  of  this  plan,  and 
accordingly  it  was  resolved  that  the  thousand  men  should 
go  as  one  body.  Hendrick  still  disapproved  of  the  plan, 
but  nevertheless  resolved  to  accompany  the  column,  and 


xm 


^ 


THE  f'tCflir  AT  tAK£  GfiORGS. 


159 


mounting  on  a  gun-carriage,  he  harangued  his  warriors 
with  passionate  eloquence,  and  they  at  once  prepared  to 
accompany  them.  He  was  too  old  and  fat  to  go  on  foot, 
and  the  general  lent  him  a  horse,  which  ^he  mounted 
and  took  his  place  at  the  head  of  the  column. 

Colonel  Williams  was  in  command,  with  Lieutenant- 
Colonel  Whiting  as  second.  They  had  no  idea  of  meet- 
ing the  enemy  near  the  camp,  a.id  moved  forward  so 
carelessly  that  not  a  single  scout  was  thrown  out  in  front 
or  flank.  The  sharp  eye  of  the  old  Indian  chief  was  the 
first  to  detect  a  sign  of  the  enemy,  and  almost  at  the 
same  moment  d,  gun  was  fired  from  the  bushes.  It  is 
said  that  the  Iroquois  seeing  the  Mohawks,  who  were 
an  allied  tribe,  in  the  van,  wished  to  warn  them  of 
danger;  the  warning  came  too  late  to  save  the  column 
from  disaster,  but  it  saved  it  from  destruction.  From 
the  thicket  on  the  left  a  deadly  fire  blazed  out,  and  the 
head  of  the  column  was  almost  swept  away.  Hendrick*s 
horse  was  shot,  and  the  chief  killed  with  a  bayonet  as 
he  tried  to  gain  his  feet. 

Colonel  Williams,  seeing  rising  ground  on  his  right, 
mSrde  for  it,  calling  his  men  to  follow ;  but  as  he  climbed 
the  slope  the  enemy's  fire  flashed  out  from  behind  every 
tree,  and  he  fell  dead.  The  men  in  the  rear  pressed  for- 
ward to  support  their  comrades,  when  the  enemy  in  the 
bushes  on  the  right  flank  also  opened  fire.  Then  a  panic 
began;  some  fled  at  once  for  the  camp,  and  the  whole 
column  recoiled  in  confusion,  as  from  all  sides  the  enemy 
burst  out,  shouting  and  yelling.  Colonel  Whiting,  how- 
ever, bravely  rallied  a  portion  of  Williams'  regiment, 
and,  aided  by  some  of  the  Mohtwks  and  by  a  detach- 
ment which  Johnson  sent  out  to  his  aid,  covered  the 
retreat,  fighting  behind  the  trees  like  the  Indians,  and 
falling  back  in  good  order  with  their  faces  to  the  enemy. 

So  stern  and  obstinate  was  their  resistance  ihat  the 
French  halted  three-quarters  of  a  mile  from  the  camp. 
They  had  inflicted  a  heavy  blow,  but  had  altogether  failed 
in  obtaining  the  complete  success  they  had  looked  for. 
The  obstinate  defense  of  Whiting  and  his  men  had  sur- 


t6o 


With  wolpe  in  cakadA. 


prised  and  dispirited  them,  and  Dieskau,when  he  collected 
his  men,  found  the  Indians  sullen  and  unmanageable  and 
the  Canadians  unwilling  to  advance  further,  for  they 
were  greatly  depressed  by  the  loss  of  a  veteran  officer, 
Saint-Pierre,  who  commanded  them  and  who  had  been 
killed  in  the  fight.  At  length,  however,  he  persuaded 
all  to  move  forward,  the  regulars  leading  the  way. 

James  Walsham  had  not  accompanied  the  column,  and 
was  sitting  at  breakfast  with  General  Johnson  on  the 
stump  of  a  tree  in  front  of  his  tent,  when  on  the  still  air 
a  rattling  sound  broke  out. 

"  Musketry ! "  was  the  general  exclamation.  An  in- 
stantaneous change  came  over  the  camp;  the  sound  of 
laughing  and  talking  was  hushed,  and  every  man  stopped 
at  his  work.  Louder  and  louder  swelled  the  distant 
sound,  until  the  shots  could  no  longer  be  distinguished 
apart ;  the  rattle  had  become  a  steady  roll. 

"  It  is  a  regular  engagement !  "  the  general  exclaimed ; 
"  the  enemy  must  be  in  force  and  must  have  attacked 
Williams'  column.'* 

General  Johnson  ordered  one  of  his  orderlies  to  mount 
and  ride  out  at  full  speed  and  see  what  was  going  on.  A 
quarter  of  an  hour  passed.  No  one  returned  to  his  work. 
The  men  stood  in  groups,  talking  in  low  voices  and 
listening  to  the  distant  roar. 

"It  is  clearer  than  it  was,"  the  general  exclaimed. 
Several  of  the  officers  standing  around  agreed  that  the 
sound  was  approaching. 

"  To  work,  lads! "  the  general  said;  "  there  is  no  time 
to  be  lost.  Let  all  the  axmen  fell  trees  and  lay  them 
end  to  end  to  make  a  breastwork;  the  rest  of  you  range 
the  wagons  in  a  line  behind  and  lay  the  boats  up  in  the 
intervals.  Carry  the  line  from  the  swamp  on  the  right 
there  to  the  slope  of  the  hill." 

In  an  instant  the  camp  was  a  scene  of  animation,  and 
the  forest  resounded  with  the  strokes  of  the  axes  and  the 
shouts  of  the  men  as  they  dragged  the  wagons  to  their 
position. 

"I  was  a  fool,"  Johnson  exclaimed,  "not  to  fortify 


THE   FIGHT  AT   LAKE  GEORGE. 


i6i 


the  camp  before;  but  who  could  have  supposed  that  the 
French  would  have  cone  down  from  Crown  Point  to 
attack  us  here! " 

In  a  few  minutes  terror-stricken  men,  whites  and 
Indians,  arrived  at  a  run  through  the  forest  and  reported 
that  they  had  been  attacked  and  surprised  by  a  great 
force  in  the  forest,  that  Hendrick  and  Colonel  Williams 
were  killed,  and  numbers  of  the  men  shot  down.  They, 
reported  that  all  was  lost;  but  the  heavy  roll  of  fire  in 
the  distance  contradicted  their  words  and  showed  that 
a  portion  of  the  column  at  least  was  fighting  sternly  and 
steadily,  though  the  sqjind  indicated  that  they  were  fall- 
ing back. 

Two  hundred  men  had  already  been  dispatched  to 
their  assistance,  and  the  only  effect  of  the  news  was  to 
redouble  the  efforts  of  the  rest.  Soon  parties  arrived 
carrying  wounded;  but  it  was  not  until  an  hour  and  a 
half  after  the  engagement  began  that  the  main  body  of 
ther*column  were  seen  marching  in  good  order  back 
through  the  forest.  By  this  time  the  hasty  defenses  were 
well-nigh  completed  and  all  the  men  were  employed#in 
cuttings  down  the  thick  brushwood  outside  so  as  to  clear 
the  ground  as  far  as  possible,  and  so  prevent  the  enemy 
from  stealing  up  under  shelter  to  the  felled  trees. 

Three  cannon  were  planted  to  sweep  the  road  that 
descended  through  the  pines;  another  was  dragged  up 
to  the  ridge  of  the  hill.  Two  hundred  and  fifty  men  were 
now  placed  on  each  flank  of  the  camp;  the  main  body 
stood  behind  the  wagons  or  lay  flat  behind  the  logs  and 
boats,  the  Massachusetts  men  on  the  right,  the  Connecti- 
cut men  on  the  left. 

"  Now,  my  lads,"  Johnson  shouted  in  his  cheery  voice, 
"  you  nave  got  to  fight.  Remember,  if  they  get  inside 
not  one  of  you  will  ever  go  back  to  your  families  to  tell 
the  tale,  while  if  you  fight  bravely  you  will  beat  them 
back  sure  enough." 

In  a  few  minutes  ranks  of  white-coated  soldiers  could 
be  seen  moving  down  the  roads  with  their  bayonets 
showing  between  the  boughs,    At  the  5ame  tirpe  Indian 


l62 


WITH   WOLFE  IN  CANADA. 


war-whoops  robC  loud  in  the  forest,  and  then  dark  forms 
could  be  seen  bounding  down  the  slope  through  the  trees 
toward  the  camp  in  a  throng. 

There  was  a  movement  of  uneasiness  among  the  young 
rustics,  few  of  whom  ever  heard  a  shot  fired  in  anger 
before  that  morning.  But  the  officers,  standing  pistol 
in  hand,  threatened  to  shoot  any  man  who  moved  from 
his  position.  Could  Dieskau  have  launched  his  whole 
force  at  once  upon  the  camp  at  that  moment  he  would 
probably  have  carried  it,  but  this  he  was  powerless  to  do. 
His  regular  troops  were  well  in  hand;  but  the  mob  of 
Canadians  and  Indians  were  scattered  through  the  forest, 
shouting,  yelling,  and  firing  from  behind  trees. 

He  thought,  however,  that  if  he  led  the  regulars  to  the 
attack  the  others  would  come  forward,  and  he  therefore 
gave  the  word  for  the  advance.  The  French  soldiers 
advanced  steadily  until  the  trees  grew  thinner.  They 
were  deployed  into  line  and  opened  fire  in  regular  vol- 
leys. Scarcely  had  they  done  so,  however,  when  Captain 
Eyre,  who  commanded  the  artillery,  opened  upon  them 
wnh  grape  from  his  three  guns,  while  from  wagon,  and 
boat,  and  fallen  log  the  musketry  fire  flashed  out  !iot  and 
bitter,  and,  reeling  under  the  shower  of  iron  and  lead, 
the  French  line  broke  up,  the  soldiers  took  shelter  behind 
trees,  and  thence  returned  the  fire  of  the  defenders. 

Johnson  received  a  flesh  wound  in  the  thigh  and  retired 
to  his  tent,  where  he  spent  the  rest  of  the  day.  Lyman 
took  the  command,  and  to  him  the  credit  of  the  victory 
is  entirely  due.  For  four  hours  the  combat  raged.  The 
young  soldiers  had  soon  got  over  their  first  uneaSiness, 
and  fought  as  steadily  and  coolly  as  veterans;  the  mus- 
ketry fire  was  unbroken ;  from  every  tree,  bush,  and  rock 
the  rifles  flashed  out,  and  the  leaden  hail  flew  in  a  storm 
over  the  camp  and  cut  the  leaves  in  a  shower  from  the 
forest.  Through  this  Lyman  moved  to  and  fro  among 
the  men,  directing,  encouraging,  cheering  them  on, 
escaping  as  by  a  miracle  the  balls  which  whistled  around 
him.  Save  the  Indians  on  the  English  side  not  a  man 
but  was  engaged,  the  wagoners  taking  their  guns  and 


THfi  FtGHr   AT  LARfi  GfiORGfi. 


163 


joining  in  the  fight.  The  Mohawks,  however,  held  aloof, 
saying  thiat  they  had  come  to  see  their  English  brothers 
fight,  but  animated  no  doubt  with  the  idea  that  if  they 
abstained  from  taking  part  in  the  fray  and  the  day  went 
against  the  English,  their  friends  the  Iroquois  would  not 
harm  them. 

The  Frencli  Indians  worked  around  on  to  high  ground 
beyond  the  swamp  on  the  left,  and  their  fire  thence  took 
the  defenders  in  the  flank. 

Captain  Eyre  speedily  turned  his  guns  in  that  direc* 
tion,  and  a  few  well-directed  shells  soon  drove  the 
Indians  from  their  vantage-ground.  Dieskau  directed 
his  first  attack  against  the  left  and  center;  but  the  Con- 
necticut men  fought  so  stoutly  that  he' next  tried  to  force 
the  right,  where  the  Massachusetts  regiments  of  Tit- 
comb,  Ruggles,  and  Williams  held  the  line.  For  an 
hour  he  strove  hard  to  break  his  way  through  the  in- 
trenchments,  but  the  Massachusetts  men  stood  firm, 
although  Titcomb  was  killed  and  their  loss  was  heavy. 
At  length  Dieskau,  exposing  himself  within  short  range 
of  the  English  lines,  was  hit  in  the  leg.  While  his 
adjutant  Montreu^  was  dressing  the  wound  the  general 
was  again  hit  in  the  knee  and  thigh.  He  had  himself 
placed  behind  a  tree  and  ordered  Montreuil  to  lead  the 
regulars  in  a  last  effort  against  the  camp.  But  it  was 
too  late.  The  blood  of  the  colonists  was  now  up,  and 
singly  or  in  small  bodies  they  were  crossing  their  lines 
of  barricade  and  working  up  among  the  trees  toward 
their  assailants.  The  movement  became  general,  and 
Lyman,  seeing  the  spirit  of  his  men,  gave  the  word, 
and  the  whole  of  the  troops  with  a  shout  leaped  up  and 
dashed  through  the  wood  against  the  enemy,  falling 
upon  them  with  their  hatchets  and  the  butts  of  their 
guns. 

The  French  and  their  allies  instantly  fled.  As  the 
colonists  passed  the  spot  where  Dieskau  was  sitting  on 
the  ground,  one  of  them,  singularly  enough  himself  a 
Frenchman,  who  had  ten  years  before  left  Canada,  fired 
9Lt  him  and  shot  him  through  both  legs.    Others  came 


"3*1 


Vi 


164 


IVItM  WOLfE  IN  CANADA. 


Up  and  stripped  him  of  his  clothes,  but  on  learning  who 
he  was  they  carried  him  to  Johnson,  who  received  him 
with  the  greatest  kindness  and  had  every  attention  paid 
to  him. 


«|      J9  "  «r    '*9      49      «a 


A«X        ! 


•KETCH  MAP  OF  LAKE  CHAMPLAIN  AND  LAKE  GEOROSy 
TO  ILLUSTRAT6  OPERATIONS  I7S5-'X759> 


SCOUTtNO. 


x65 


CHAPTER  XI. 


SCOUTING. 


It  was  near  five  o'clock  before  the  final  rout  of  the 
French  took  place ;  but  before  that  time  several  hundreds 
of  the  Canadians  and  Indians  had  left  the  scene  of  action, 
and  had  returned  to  the  scene  of  the  fight  in  the  wood 
to  plunder  and  scalp  the  dead.  They  were  resting  after 
their  bloody  work  by  a  pool  in  the  forest,  when  a  scout- 
ing party  from  Fort  Lyman  under  Captains  M'Ginnis 
and  Folsom  came  upon  them  and  opened  fire.  The 
Canadians  and  Indians,  outnumbering  their  assailants 
greatly,  fought  for  some  time,  but  were  finally  defeated 
and  fled.  M'Ginnis  was  mortally  wounded,  but  con- 
tinued to  give  orders  till  the  fight  was  over.  The  bodies 
of  the  slain  were  thrown  into  the  pool,  which  to  this  day 
bears  the  name  "  The  Bloody  Pool." 

The  various  bands  of  French  fugitives  reunited  in  the 
forest  and  made  their  way  back  to  their  canoes  in  South 
Bay,  and  reached  Ticonderoga  utterly  exhausted  and 
famished,  for  they  had  thrown  away  their  knapsacks  in 
their  flight,  and  had  had  nothing  to  eat  from  the  morning 
of  the  fight  until  they  rejoined  their  comrades. 

Johnson  had  the  greatest  difficulty  in  protecting  the 
wounded  French  general  from  the  Mohawks,  who, 
although  they  had  done  no  fighting  in  defense  of  the 
camp,  wanted  to  torture  and  burn  Dieskau  in  revenge 
for  the  death  of  Hendrick  and  their  warriors  who  had 
fallen  in  the  ambush.  He,  however,  succeeded  in  doing 
so,  and  sent  him  in  a  litter  under  a  strong  escort  to 
Albany.  Dieskau  was  afterward  taken  to  England  and 
remained  for  some  years  at  Bath,  after  which  he  returned 
to  Paris.  He  never,  however,  recovered  from  his  numer- 
ous wounds,  and  died  a  few  years  later.  He  always  spoke 
in  the  highest  terms  of  the  treatment  he  had  received 
from  the  colonial  officers.  Of  the  provincial  soldiers  he 
said  that' in  the  morning  they  fought  like  boys,  about 

noon  like  men,  and  in  the  afternoon  like  4evils, 


t66 


WITH   WOLFE  IN  CANADA. 


The  English  loss  in  killed,  wounded,  and  missing  was 
262^  for  the  most  part  killed  in  the  ambush  in  the  morn- 
ing. The  French,  according  to  their  own  account,  lost 
228,  but  it  probably  exceeded  400,  the  principal  portion 
of  whom  were  regulars,  for  the  Indians  and  Canadians 
kept  themselves  so  well  under  cover  that  they  and  the 
provincials  behind  their  logs  were  able  to  inflict  but  little 
loss  on  each  other. 

Had  Johnson  followed  up  his  success  he  might  have 
reached  South  Bay  before  the  French,  in  which  case  the 
whole  of  Dieskau's  column  must  have  fallen  into  his 
hands;  nor  did  he  press  forward  against  Ticonderoga, 
which  he  might  easily  have  captured.  For  ten  days 
nothing  was  done  except  to  fortify  the  camp,  and  when 
at  the  end  of  that  time  he  thought  of  advancing  against 
Ticonderoga,  the  French  had  already  fortified  the  place 
so  strongly  that  they  were  able  to  defy  attack.  The 
colonists  sent  him  large  reinforcements,  but  the  season 
was  getting  late,  and  after  keeping  the  army  stationary 
until  the  end  of  November,  the  troops,  having  suffered 
terribly  from  the  cold  and  exposure,  became  almost 
mutinous,  and  were  finally  marched  back  to  Albany,  a 
small  detachment  being  left  to  hold  the  fort  by  the  lake. 
This  was  now  christened  Fort  William  Henry. 

The  victory  was  due  principally  to  the  gallantry  and 
coolness  of  Lyman;  but  Johnson,  in  his  report  of  the 
battle,  made  no  mention  of  that  officer's  name,  and  took 
all  the  credit  to  himself.  He  was  rewarded  by  being 
made  a  baronet  and  by  being  voted  a  pension  by  Parlia- 
ment of  five  thousand  a  year. 

James  Walsham,  having  no  duties  during  the  fight  at 
the  camp,  had  taken  a  musket  and  lain  down  behind  the 
logs  with  the  soldiers,  and  had  all  the  afternoon  kept 
up  a  fire  at  the  trees  and  bushes  behind  which  the  enemy 
were  hiding.  After  the  battle  he  had  volunteered  to 
assist  the  overworked  surgeons,  whose  labors  lasted 
through  the  nisfht.  When  he  found  that  no  forward 
movement  was  likely  to  take  place  he  determined  to  leave 
the  camp.    He  therefore  asked  Captain  Rogers,  who 


SCOUTING. 


167 


was  the  leader  ot  a  band  of  scouts  and  a  man  of 
extraordinary  energy  and  enterprise,  to  allow  him  to 
accompany  him  on  a  scouting  expedition  toward 
Ticonderoga. 

*'  I  shall  be  glad  to  have  you  with  me,"  Rogers  replied; 
"  but  you  know  it  is  a  service  of  danger;  it  is  not  like 
work  with  regular  troops,  where  all  march,  light,  stand, 
or  fall  together.  Here  each  man  fights  for  himself. 
Mind,  there  is  not  a  man  among  my  band  who  would 
not  risk  his  life  for  the  rest;  but  scattered  through  the 
woods  as  each  man  is,  each  must  perforce  rely  principally 
on  himself.  The  woods  near  Ticonderoga  will  be  full  of 
lurking  redskins,  and  a  man  may  be  brained  and  scalped 
without  his  fellow  a  few  yards  away  hearing  a  sound.  I 
only  say  this  that  you  may  feel  that  you  must  take  your 
chances.  The  men  under  me  are  every  one  old  hunters 
and  Indian  fighters,  and  are  a  match  for  the  redskin  in 
every  move  of  forest  war.  They  are  true  grit  to  the 
backbone,  but  they  are  rough,  outspoken  men,  and  on 
a  service  when  a  foot  carelessly  placed  on  a  dry  twig  or 
a  word  spoken  above  a  whisper  may  bring  a  crowd  of 
yelping  redskins  upon  us  and  cost  every  man  his  scalp, 
they  would  speak  sharply  to  the  king  himself  if  he  were 
on  the  scout  with  them,  and  you  must  not  take  offense 
at  any  rough  word  that  may  be  said." 

James  laughed  and  said  that  he  should  not  care  how 
much  he  was  blown  up,  and  that  he  should  thankfully 
receive  any  lessons  from  such  masters  of  forest  craft. 

"  Very  well,"  Captain  Rogers  said.  "  In  that  case  it 
is  settled.  I  will  let  you  have  a  pair  of  moccasins. 
You  cannot  go  walking  about  the  woods  in  those  boots. 
You  had  better  get  a  rifle.  Your  sword  you  had  best 
leave  behind.  It  will  be  of  no  use  to  you  and  will  only 
be  in  your  way." 

James  had  no  difficulty  in  providing  himself  with  a 
gun,  for  numbers  of  weapons  picked  up  in  the  woods 
after  the  rout  of  the  enemy  were  stored  in  camp.  The 
rifles  had,  however,  been  all  taken  by  the  troops,  who 
had  exchanged  their  own  firelocks  for  them.    Captain 


i 


i6S 


WITH  WOLFE  IN  CANADA. 


Rogers  went  with  him  among  the  men,  and  selected  a 
well-finished  rifle  of  which  one  of  them  had  possessed 
himself.  Its  owner  readily  agreed  to  accept  five  pounds 
for  it,  taking  in  its  stead  one  of  the  guns  in  the  store. 
Before  choosing  it  Captain  Rogers  placed  a  bit  of  paper 
against  a  tree,  and  fired  several  shots  at  various  distances 
at  it. 

"  It  is  a  beautiful  rifle,"  he  said.  *'  Its  only  fault  is 
that  it  Is  rather  heavy,  but  it  shoots  all  the  better  for  it. 
It  is  evidently  a  French  gun,  I  should  say  by  a  first-rate 
maker,  built  probably  for  some  French  officer  who  knew 
what  he  was  about.  It  is  a  good  workmanlike  piece,  and 
when  you  learn  to  hold  it  straight  you  can  trust  it  to 
shoot." 

That  evening  James,  having  made  all  his  preparations, 
said  good-by  to  the  general  and  to  his  other  friends  and 
joined  the  scouts,  who  were  gathering  by  the  shore  of  the 
lake.  Ten  canoes,  each  of  which  would  carry  three  men, 
were  lying  by  the  shore. 

"  Nat,  you  and  Jonathan  will  take  this  young  fellow 
v/ith  you.  He  is  a  lad  and  it  is  his  first  scout.  You  will 
find  him  of  the  right  sort.  He  was  with  Braddock,  and 
after  that  affair  hurried  up  here  to  see  fighting  on  the 
lakes.  He  can't  have  two  better  nurses  than  you  are. 
He  is  going  to  be  an  officer  in  the  king's  army,  and  wants 
to  learn  as  much  as  he  can,  so  that  if  he  ever  gets  with 
his  men  into  such  a  mess  as  Braddock  tumbled  into  he 
will  know  what  to  do  with  them." 

"  All  right,  captain !  we  will  do  our  best  for  him.  It's 
risky  sort  of  business  ours  for  a  greenhorn,  but  if  he  is 
anyways  teachable  we  will  soon  make  a  man  of  him." 

The  speaker  was  a  v/iry,  active  man  of  some  forty 
years  old,  with  a  weather-beaten  face  and  a  keen  gray 
eye.  Jonathan,  his  comrade,  was  a  head  taller,  with 
broad  shoulders,  powerful  limbs,  and  a  quiet  but  good- 
tempered  face. 

"  That's  so,  isn't  it,  Jonathan?  "  Nat  asked. 

Jonathan  nodded.  He  was  not  ci  man  gf  many 
jvords. 


5.  f. 


:te(I  a 
jessed 
ounds 
store. 

1 

paper 
ances 

■ 

ult  is 
for  it. 
t-rate 
knew 
i,  and 
it  to 

'■' 

ft    •; 

tions, 
s  and 
of  the 

men. 

ellow 
u  will 
,  and 
n  the 

^^R 

I  are. 

vants 
with 
o  he 

It's 

^^^■ftV 

ne  is 

'orty 
gray 
with 
Dod- 

S66t^TlNG 


t6g 


any 


"Have  you  ever  been  in  a  canoe  before?"  Nat 
inquired. 

"  Never,"  James  said;  "  but  I  am  accustomed  to  boats 
of  all  sorts,  and  can  handle  an  oar  fairly." 

"  Oars  aint  no  good  here,"  the  scout  said.  "  You 
will  have  to  learn  to  paddle ;  but  ftrst  of  all  you  have  got 
to  learn  to  sit  still.  These  here  canoes  are  awkward 
things  for  a  beginner.  Now,  you  hand  in  your  traps  and 
I  will  stow  them  away;  then  you  take  your  place  in  the 
middle  of  the  boat.  Here's  a  paddle  for  you,  and  when 
you  begin  to  feel  yourself  comfortable  you  can  start  to 
try  with  it,  easy  and  gentle  to  begin  with,  but  you  must 
lay  it  in  when  we  get  near  where  we  may  expect  that 
redskins  may  be  in  the  woods,  for  the  splash  of  a  paddle 
might  cost  us  all  our  scalps." 

James  took  his  seat  in  the  middle  of  the  boat.  Jona- 
than was  behind  him,  Nat  handled  the  paddle  in  the  bow. 
There  was  but  a  brief  delay  in  starting,  and  the  ten  boats 
darted  noiselessly  out  on  to  the  lake.  For  a  time  James 
did  not  attempt  to  use  his  paddle.  The  canoe  was  of 
birch  bark,  so  thin  that  it  seemed  to  him  that  an  incau- 
tious movement  would  instantly  knock  a  hole  through 
her. 

Once  under  way  she  was  steadier  than  he  had  expected, 
and  James  could  feel  her  bound  forward  with  each  stroke 
of  the  padales.  When  he  became  accustomed  to  the 
motion  c/f  the  boat  he  raised  himself  from  a  sitting  posi- 
tion in  the  bottom,  and  kneeling  as  the  others  were 
domg,  lie  ber^an  to  dip  his  paddle  quietly  in  the  water  in 
time  with  their  stroke.  His  familiarity  wr^n  rowing  ren- 
dered it  easy  for  him  to  keep  time  and  swing,  and  ere 
long  he  found  himself  putting  a  considerable  amount 
of  force  into  each  stroke.  Nat  looked  back  over  his 
shoulder. 

"  Well  done,  young  'un.  Thai^  first-rate  for  a  be- 
ginner, and  it  makes  a  deal  of  difference  on  our  arms. 
The  others  are  all  paddling  three,  and  though  Jonathan 
and  I  have  beaten  three  before  now,  when  our  scalps 
depended  on  our  doing  so,  it  makes  all  the  difference  in 


176 


WlTli   WOLFE  IN   CANADA. 


the  work  whether  you  have  a  sitter  to  take  along-  or  an 
extra  paddle  going/' 

It  was  falling  dusk  when  the  boat  started,  and  was 
by  this  time  quite  dark.  Scarce  a  word  was  heard  in  the 
ten  canoes  as,  keeping  near  the  right  hand  shore  of  the 
lake,  they  glided  rapidly  along  in  a  close  body.  So 
noiselessly  were  the  paddles  dipped  into  the  water  that 
the  drip  from  them  as  they  were  lifted  was  the  only 
sound  heard. 

Four  hours'  steady  paddling  took  them  to  the  narrows 
about  five-and-twenty  miles  from  their  starting-point. 
Here,  on  the  whispered  order  of  Nat,  James  laid  in  his 
paddle;  for,  careful  as  he  was,  he  occasionally  made  a 
slight  splash  as  he  put  it  in.  the  water.  The  canoes  now 
kept  in  single  file  almost  under  the  trees  on  the  right 
bank,  for  the  lake  was  here  scarce  a  mile  across,  and 
watchful  eyes  might  be  on  the  lookout  on  the  shore  to 
the  left.  Another  ten  miles  was  passed,  and  then  the 
canoes  were  steered  in  to  the  shore. 

The  guns,  blankets,  and  bundles  were  lifted  out;  the 
canoes  raised  on  the  shoulders  of  the  men  and  carried 
a  couple  of  hundred  yards  among  the  trees;  then,  with 
scarcely  a  v/ord  spoken,  each  man  rolled  himself  in  his 
blanket  and  lay  down  to  sleep,  four  being  sent  out  as 
scouts  in  various  directions.  Soon  after  daybreak  all 
were  on  foot  again,  although  it  had  been  arranged  that 
no  move  should  be  made  till  night  set  in.  No  fires  were 
lighted,  for  they  had  brought  with  them  a  supply  of  bis- 
cuit and  dry  deer's  flesh  sufficient  for  a  week. 

"How  did  you  get  on  yesterday?"  Captain  Rogers 
asked  as  he  came  up  to  the  spot  where  James  had  just 
risen  to  his  feet. 

"First-rate,  captain!"  Nat  answered  for  him.  "I 
hardly  believed  that  a  young  fellow  could  have  handled 
a  paddle  so  well  at  the  first  attempt.  He  rowed  all  the 
way,  except  just  the  narrows,  and  though  I  don't  say  as 
he  was  noiseless,  he  did  wonderfully  well,  and  we  came 
along  with  the  rest  as  easy  as  may  be." 

"  I  thought  I  heard  a  little  splash  now  and  then,"  the 


SCOUTING. 


171 


captain  said,  smiling;  "but  it  was  very  slight  and  could 
do  no  harm  where  the  lake  is  two  or  three  miles  wide,  as 
it  is  here;  but  you  will  have  to  lay  in  your  paddle  when 
we  get  near  the  other  end,  for  the  sides  narrow  in  there, 
and  the  redskins  would  hear  a  fish  jump  half  a  mile 
away." 

During  the  day  the  men  passed  their  time  in  sleep,  in 
mending  their  clothes,  or  in  talking  quietly  together. 
The  use  of  tea  had  not  yet  become  general  in  America, 
and  the  meals  were  washed  down  with  water  drawn  from 
the  lake,  where  an  overhanging  bush  shaded  the  shore 
from  the  sight  of  anyone  on  the  opposite  bank,  mixed 
with  rum  from  the  gourds  which  all  the  scouts  carried. 

Nat  spent  some  time  in  pointing  out  to  James  the 
signs  by  which  the  hunters  found  their  way  through  the 
forest;  by  the  moss  and  lichens  growing  more  thickly 
on  the  side  of  the  trunks  of  the  trees  opposed  to  the 
course  of  prevailing  winds,  or  by  a  slight  inclination  of 
the  upper  boughs  of  the  trees  in  the  same  direction. 
"  An  old  woodsman  can  tell,"  he  said,  "  on  the  darkest 
night,  on  running  his  hand  round  the  trunk  of  a  tree,  by 
the  feel  of  the  bark,  which  is  north  and  south;  but  it 
would  be  long  before  you  can  get  to  such  niceties  as 
that;  but  if  you  keep  your  eyes  open  as  you  go  along, 
and  look  at  the  signs  on  the  trunks,  which  are  just  as 
plain  when  you  once  know  them  as  the  marks  on  a  man's 
face,  you  will  be  able  to  make  your  way  through  the 
woods  in  the  daytime.  Of  course  when  the  sun  is  shin- 
ing you  get  its  help,  for  although  it  is  not  often  a  gleam 
comes  down  through  the  leaves,  sometimes  you  come 
upon  a  little  patch,  and  you  are  sure,  now  and  then,  to 
strike  on  a  gap  where  a  tree  has  fallen,  and  that  gives 
you  a  line  again.  A  great  help  to  a  young  beginner  is 
the  sun.  for  a  young  hand  in  the  woods  gets  confused 
and  doubts  the  signs  of  the  trees;  but  in  course  when  he 
comes  on  a  patch  of  sunlight  he  can't  make  a  mistake 
nohow  as  to  the  direction." 

James  indulged  in  a  silent  hope  that  if  he  were  ever 
lost  in  the  woods  the  sun  would  be  shining,  for  look  as 


1)2 


WITH    WOLFE    IN    CANaCA. 


earnestly  as  he  would  he  could  not  perceive  the  signs 
which  appeared  so  plain  and  distinct  to  the  scout.  Occa- 
sionally, indeed,  he  fancied  that  there  was  some  slight 
difference  between  one  side  of  the  trunk  and  the  other; 
but  he  was  by  no  means  sure  that  even  in  these  cases  he 
should  have  noticed  it  unless  it  had  been  pointed  out  to 
him,  while  in  the  greater  part  of  the  trees  he  could  dis- 
cern no  difference  whatever. 

"It's  just  habit,  my  lad,"  Nat  said  encouragingly  to 
him;  "there's  just  as  much  difference  between  one  side 
of  the  tree  and  the  other  as  there  is  between  two  men's 
faces.  It  comes  of  practice.  Now  just  look  at  the  roots 
of  this  tree;  don't  you  see  on  one  side  they  run  pretty 
nigh  straight  out  from  the  trunk,  while  from  the  other 
they  go  down  deep  into  the  ground?  That  speaks  for 
itself;  the  tree  has  thrown  out  its  roots  to  claw  into  the 
ground  and  get  a  hold  on  the  side  from  which  the  wind 
comes,  while  on  the  other  side,  having  no  such  occasion, 
it  has  dipped  its  root  down  to  look  for  moisture  and 
food." 

"Yes,  I  do  see  that,"  James  said;  "that  is  easy 
enough  to  make  out;  but  the  next  tree,  and  the  next, 
and  as  far  as  I  see  all  the  others  don't  seem  to  have  any 
difference  in  their  roots  one  side  or  the  other." 

"  That  is  so,"  the  scout  replied.  "  You  see,  those  are 
younger  trees  than  this,  and  it  is  Hke  enough  they  did 
not  grow  under  the  same  circumstances.  When  a  few 
trees  fall  or  a  small  clearing  is  made  by  a  gale,  the  young 
trees  that  grow  up  are  well  sheltered  from  the  wind  by 
the  forest,  and  don't  want  to  throw  out  roots  to  hold 
them  up ;  but  when  a  great  clearing  has  been  made  by  a 
fire  or  other  causes  the  trees,  as  they  grow  up  together, 
have  no  shelter,  and  must  stretch  out  their  roots  to 
steady  them. 

"  Sometimes  you  will  find  all  the  trees  for  a  long  dis- 
tance with  their  roots  like  this,  sometimes  only  one  tree 
among  a  number.  Perhaps  when  they  started  that  tree 
had  more  room  or  a  deeper  soil,  and  grew  faster  than 
the  rest  and  got  his  head  above  them,  so  he  felt  the  wind 


■"iiW^ 


SCOUTING. 


173 


more  and  had  to  throw  out  his  roots  to  steady  himself, 
while  the  others,  all  growing  the  same  height,  did  not 
need  to  do  go." 

"  Thank  you,"  James  said.  "  I  understand  now,  and 
will  bear  it  in  mind.  It  is  very  interesting,  and  I  should 
like  above  all  things  to  be  able  to  read  the  signs  of  the 
woods  as  you  do." 

"It  will  come,  lad;  it's  a  sort  v  of  second  nature. 
These  things  are  gifts.  The  redskin  thinks  it  just  as 
wonderful  that  the  white  man  should  be  able  to  take  up 
a  piece  of  paper  covered  with  black  marks  and  to  read 
off  sense^out  of  them,  as  you  do  that  he  should  be  able 
to  read  every  mark  and  sign  of  the  wood.  He  can  see 
as  plain  as  if  the  man  was  still  standing  on  it  the  mark 
of  a  footprint,  and  can  tell  you  if  it  was  made  by  a  war- 
rior or  a  squaw,  and  how  long  they  have  passed  by,  and 
whether  they  were  walking  fast  or  slow,  while  the  ordi- 
nary white  man  might  go  down  on  his  hands  and  knees 
and  stare  at  the  ground,  and  wouldn't  be  able  to  see  the 
slightest  sign  or  mark.  For  a  white  man  my  eyes  are 
good,  but  they  are  not  a  patch  on  the  redskin's.  I  have 
lived  among  the  woods  since  I  was  a  boy ;  but  even  now 
a  redskin  lad  can  pick  up  a  trail  and  follow  it  when,  look 
as  I  will,  I  can't  see  as  a  blade  of  grass  has  been  bruised. 
No;  these  things  is  partly  natur  and  partly  practice. 
Practice  will  do  a  lot  for  a  white  man,  but  it  won't  take 
him  up  to  redskin  natur." 

Not  until  night  had  fallen  did  the  party  again  launch 
their  canoes  on  the  lake.  Then  they  paddled  for  sev- 
eral hours  until,  as  James  imagined,  they  had  traversed 
a  greater  distance  by  some  miles  than  that  which  they 
had  made  on  the  previous  evening.  He  knew  from 
what  he  had  learned  during  the  day  they  were  to  land 
some  six  miles  below  the  point  where  Lake  George 
joins  Lake  Champlain,  and  where,  on  the  opposite  side, 
on  a  promontory  stretching  into  the  lake,  the  French 
were  constructing  their  new  fort. 

The  canoes  were  to  be  carried  some  seven  or  eight 
miles  through  the  wood  across  the  neck  of  land  between 


M' 


t74 


WITH   WOLFE  IN   CANADA. 


the  two  lakes,  and  were  then  to  be  launched  again  on 
Lake  Champlain,  so  that  by  following  the  east  shore  of 
that  lake  they  would  pass  Ticonderoga  at  a  safe  distance. 
The  halt  was  made  as  noiselessly  as  before  and  having 
hauled  up  the  canoes  the  men  slept  till  daybreak,  and 
then,  lifting  the  light  craft  on  their  shoulders,  started 
for  their  journey  through  the  woods.  It  was  toilsome 
work,  for  the  ground  was  rough  and  broken,  often 
thickly  covered  with  underwood.  Ridges  had  to  be 
crossed  and  deep  ravines  passed,  and  although  the 
canoes  were  not  heavy,  the  greatest  care  had  to  be 
exercised,  for  a  graze  against  a  projecting  bough  or 
the  edge  of  a  rock  would  suffice  to  te:.*  a  role  in  the 
thin  bark. 

It  was  not  until  late  in  the  afternoon  that  they  arrived 
on  the  shores  of  Lake  Champlain.  A  fire  was  lighted 
now,  the  greatest  care  being  taken  to  select  perfectly  dry 
sticks,  for  the  Iroquois  were  likely  to  be  scattered  far 
and  wide  among  the  woods;  the  risk,  however,  was  far 
less  than  when  in  sight  of  the  French  side  of  Lake 
George.  After  darkness  fell  the  canoes  were  again 
placed  in  the  water,  and  striking  across  the  lake  they 
followed  the  right-hand  shore.  After  paddling  for  about 
an  hour  and  a  half  the  work  suddenly  ceased. 

The  lake  seemed  to  widen  on  their  left,  for  they  had 
just  passed  the  tongue  of  land  between  the  two  lakes, 
and  on  the  opposite  shore  a  number  of  fires  were  seen 
burning  brightly  on  the  hillside.  It  was  Ticonderoga 
they  were  now  abreast  of,  the  advanced  post  of  the 
French.  They  lingered  for  some  time  before  the  paddles 
were  again  dipped  in  water,  counting  the  fires  and  mak- 
ing a  careful  note  of  the  position.  They  paddled  on 
again  until  some  twelve  miles  beyond  the  fort,  and  then 
crossed  the  lake  and  landed  on  the  French  shore.  But 
the  canoes  did  not  all  approach  the  shore  together  as 
they  had  done  on  the  previous  nights.  They  halted  half 
a  mile  out,  and  Captain  Rogers  went  forward  with  his 
own  and  another  canoe  and  landed,  and  it  was  not  for 
half  an  hour  that  the  signal  was  given,  by  an  imitation 


SCOUTING. 


^7$ 


of  the  croaking  of  a  frog,  that  a  careful  search  had  ascer- 
tained the  forest  to  be  untenanted  and  the  landing  safe. 

No  sooner  was  the  signal  given  than  the  canoes  were 
set  in  motion  and  were  soon  safely  hauled  up  on  shore. 
Five  men  went  out  as  usual  as  scouts,  and  the  rest, 
fatigued  by  their  paddle  and  the  hard  day's  work,  were 
soon  asleep.  •  In  the  morning  they  were  about  to  start 
and  Rogers  ordered  the  canoes  to  be  hauled  up  and  hid- 
den among  the  bushes,  where,  having  done  their  work, 
they  would  for  the  present  be  abandoned,  to  be  recov- 
ered and  made  useful  on  some  future  occasion.  The 
men  charged  with  the  work  gave  a  sudden  exclamation 
when  they  reached  the  canoes. 

"  What  is  that? "  Rogers  said  angrily.  "  Do  you 
want  to  bring  all  the  redskins  in  the  forest  upon  us?  " 

"  The  canoes  are  all  damaged,"  one  of  the  scouts  said, 
coming  up  to  him. 

There  was  a  general  movement  to  the  canoes;  which 
were  lying  on  the  bank  a  few  yards'  distance  from  the 
water's  edge.  Every  one  of  them  had  been  rendered 
useless,  the  thin  birch  bark  had  been  gashed  and  slit, 
pieces  had  been  cut  out,  and  not  one  of  them  had 
escaped  injury  or  was  fit  to  take  the  water.  Beyond  a 
few  low  words  and  exclamations  of  dismay,  not  a  word 
was  spoken  as  the  band  gathered  round  the  canoes. 

"Who  were  on  the  watch  on  this  side?"  Rogers 
asked. 

''  Nat  and  Jonathan  took  the  first  half  of  the  night,/' 
one  of  the  scouts  said.  *'  William.s  and  myself  relieved 
them." 

As  all  four  were  men  of  the  greatest  skill  and  experi- 
ence, Rogers  felt  sure  that  no  neglect  or  carelessness  on 
their  part  could  have  led  to  the  disaster. 

"Did  any  of  you  see  any  passing  boats  or  hear  any 
sound  on  the  lake?" 

The  four  men  who  had  been  on  guard  replied  in  the 
negative. 

"  I  will  swear  no  one  landed  near  the  canoes,"  Nat 
gaid,    ■'  There  was  a  glimmer  on  the  w?tter  all  night;  a 


m^mm 


176 


WITH   WOLFE   IN   CANADA. 


canoe  could  not  have  possibly  come  near  the  bank  any- 
wheres here  without  our  seeing  it." 

"  Then  he  must  have  come  from  the  land  side," 
Rogers  said.  "  Some  skulking  Indian  must  have  seen 
us  out  on  the  lake  and  have  hidden  up  where  we  landed. 
He  may  have  been  in  a  tree  overhead  all  the  time,  and 
directly  the  canoes  were  hauled  up  he  may  have  dam- 
aged them  and  made  off.  There  is  no  time  to  be  lost, 
lads;  it  is  five  hours  since  we  landed;  if  he  started  at 
once  the  redskins  may  be  all  round  us  now.  It  is  no 
question  now  of  our  scouting  round  the  French  fort,  it 
is  one  of  saving  our  scalps." 

"  How  could  it  have  been  done?  '*  James  Walsham 
asked  Nat  in  a  low  tone.  "  We  were  all  sleeping  within 
a  few  yards  of  the  canoes  and  some  of  the  men  were 
close  to  them.  I  should  have  thought  we  must  have 
heard  it." 

"  Heard  it! "  the  hunter  said  contemptuously;  ''why, 
a  redskin  would  make  no  more  noise  in  cutting  them 
holes  and  gashes  than  you  would  in  cutting  a  hunk  of 
deer's  flesh  for  your  dinner.  He  would  lie  on  the 
ground  and  wriggle  from  one  to  another  like  an  eel ;  but 
I  reckon  he  didn't  begin  till  the  camp  was  still.  The 
canoes  wasn't  hauled  up  till  we  had  sarched  the  woods, 
as  we  thought,  and  then  we  was  moving  about  close  by 
them  till  we  lay  down.  I  was  standing  there  on  the 
water's  edge  not  six  feet  away  from  that  cance.  I  never 
moved  for  two  hours,  and  quiet  as  a  redskin  may  be  he 
must  have  taken  time  to  do  that  damage,  so  as  I  never 
heard  a  sound  as  loud  as  the  falling  of  a  leaf.  No.  I 
reckon  as  he  was  at  the  very  least  two  hours  over  that 
job.  He  may  have  been  gone  four  hours  or  a  bit  over, 
but  not  more;  but  that  don't  give  us  much  of  a  start. 
It  would  take  him  an  hour  and  a  half  to  get  to  the  fort, 
then  he  would  have  to  report  to  the  French  chap  in  com- 
mand, and  then  there  might  be  some  talk  before  he  : 
out  with  the  redskins,  leaving  the  French  to  follow." 

"  It's  no  use  thinking  of  mending  the  canoes,  I  sup- 
pose?" James  asked, 


SCOUTtNG. 


ill 


The  hunter  shook  his  "head. 

"  It  would  take  two  or  three  hours  to  get  fresh  bark 
and  mend  those  holes,"  he  said,  "  and  we  haven't  got  as 
many  minutes  to  spare.     There,  now,  we  are  off." 

While  they  had  been  speaking  Rogers  had  been  hold- 
ing a  consultation  with  two  or  three  of  his  most  experi- 
enced followers,  and  they  had  arrived  at  pretty  nearly 
the  same  conclusion  as  that  of  Rogers,  namely,  that  the 
Indian  had  probably  taken  two  or  three  hours  in  damag- 
ing the  canoes  and  getting  fairly  away  into  the  forest; 
but  that  even  if  he  had  done  so  the  Iroquois  would  be  up 
in  the  course  of  half  an  hour. 

"  Let  each  man  pack  his  share  of  meat  on  his  back," 
Rogers  said;  "  don't  leave  a  scrap  behind.  Quick,  lads, 
there's  not  a  minute  to  be  lost — it's  a  case  of  legs  now. 
There's  no  hiding  the  trail  of  thirty  men  from  redskin 
eyes." 

In  a  couple  of  minutes  all  were  ready  for  the  start,  and 
Rogers  at  once  led  the  way  at  a  long  slinging  trot 
straight  back  from  the  lake,  first  saying: 

"  Pick  your  way,  lads,  and  don't  tread  on  a  fallen 
stick.  There  is  just  one  chance  of  saving  our  scalps, 
and  only  one-,  and  that  depends  upon  silence." 

As  James  ran  along  at  the  heels  of  Nat  he  was  struck 
with  the  strangeness  of  the  scene  and  the  noiselessness 
with  which  the  band  of  moccasin-footed  men  flitted 
among  the  trees.  Not  a  word  was  spoken.  All  had 
implicit  confidence  in  their  leader,  the  most  experienced 
bush-fighter  on  the  frontier,  and  knew  that  if  anyone 
could  lead  them  safe  from  the  perils  that  surrounded 
them  it  was  Rogers. 

James  wondered  what  his  plan  could  be;  it  seemed 
certain  to  him  that  the  Indians  must  sooner  or  later 
overtake  them.  They  would  be  aware  of  the  strength 
of  the  band,  and  confiding  in  their  superior  numbers 
would  be  able  to  push  forward  in  pursuit  without  paus- 
ing for  many  precautions.  Once  overtaken  the  band 
must  stand  at  bay,  and  even  could  they  hold  the  Indians 
in  check  the  sound  of  the  firing  would  soon  bring  the 
French  soldiers  to  the  spot. 


«  t. 


178 


WITH  WOLFE   IN   CANADA. 


They  had  been  gone  some  twenty  minutes  only  when 
a  distant  war-whoop  rose  in  the  forest  behind  them. 

"  They  have  come  down  on  the  camp,"  Nat  said, 
glancing  round  over  his  shoulder,  "  and  find  we  have 
left  it.  I  expect  they  hung  about  a  little  before  they 
ventured  in,  knowing  as  we  should  be  expecting  them 
when  we  found  the  canoes  was  useless.  That  war- 
whoop  tells  'em  all  as  we  have  gone.  They  will  gather 
there  and  then  be  after  us  like  a  pack  of  hounds.  Ah! 
that  is  what  I  thought  the  captain  was  up  to." 

Rogers  had  turned  sharp  to  the  left,  the  direction  in 
which  Ticonderoga  stood.  He  slacked  down  his  speed 
somewhat,  for  the  perspiration  was  streaming  down  the 
faces  even  of  his  trained  and  hardy  followers.  From 
time  to  time  he  looked  round  to  see  that  all  were  keep- 
ing well  together.  Although  in  such  an  emergency  as 
this  none  thought  of  questioning  the  judgment  of  their 
leader,  many  of  them  were  wondering  at  the  unusual 
speed  at  which  he  was  leading  them  along.  They  had 
some  two  miles  start  of  their  pursuers,  and  had  evening 
been  at  hand  they  would  have  understood  the  impor- 
tance of  keeping  ahead  until  darkness  came  on  to  cover 
their  trail;  but  with  the  whole  day  before  them  they  felt 
that  they  must  be  overtaken  sooner  or  later,  and  they 
could  not  see  the  object  of  exhausting  their  strength  be- 
fore the  struggle  began. 

As  they  ran  on,  at  a  somewhat  slower  pace  now,  an 
idea  as  to  their  leader's  intention  dawned  upon  most  of 
the  scouts,  who  saw  by  the  direction  they  were  taking 
that  they  would  again  strike  the  lake  shore  near  the 
French  fort.  Nat,  who,  light  and  wiry,  was  running 
easily,  while  many  of  his  comrades  were  panting  with 
their  exertions,  was  now  by  the  side  of  James  Walsham. 

"  Give  me  your  rifle,  lad,  for  a  bit.  You  are  new  to 
this  work  and  the  weight  of  the  gun  takes  it  out  of  you. 
We  have  got  another  nine  or  ten  miles  before  us  yet." 

"  I  can  hold  on  for  a  bit,"  James  replied;  "I  am  get- 
ting my  wind  better  now;  but  why  only  ten  miles?  We 
must  be  seventy  away  from  the  fort." 


SCOUTINO. 


179 


"  We  should  never  get  there,"  Nat  said;  "  a  few  of  us 
might  do  it,  but  the  redskins  would  be  on  us  in  an  hour 
or  two.  I  thought  when  we  started  as  the  captain 
would  have  told  us  to  scatter,  so  as  to  give  each  of  us 
some  chance  of  getting  off;  but  I  see  his  plan  now, 
and  it's  the  only  one  as  there  is  which  gives  us  a  real 
chance.  He  is  making  straight  for  the  French  fort. 
He  reckons,  no  doubt,  as  the  best  part  of  the  French 
troops  will  have  marched  out  after  the  redskins." 

"  But  there  would  surely  be  enough  left,"  James  said, 
"  to  hold  the  fort  against  us ;  and  even  if  we  could 
take  it  we  could  not  hold  it  an  hour  when  they  all 
came  up." 

"  He  aint  thinking  of  the  fort,  boy,  he*s  thinking  of 
the  boats.  We  know  as  they  have  lots  of  'em  there,  and 
it  we  can  get  there  a  few  minutes  before  the  redskins 
overtake  us  we  may  get  off  safe.  It's  a  chance,  but  I 
think  it's  a  good  one." 

Others  had  caught  their  leader's  idea  and  repeated  it 
to  their  comrades,  and  the  animating  effect  soon  showed 
itself  in  the  increased  speed  with  which  the  party  hurried 
through  the  forest.  Before,  almost  every  man  had 
thought  their  case  hopeless,  had  deemed  that  they  had 
only  to  continue  their  flight  until  overtaken  by  the  red- 
skins, and  that  they  must  sooner  or  later  succumb  to  the 
rifles  of  the  Iroquois  and  their  French  allies.  But  the 
prospect  that  after  an  hour's  run  a  means  of  escape 
might  be  found  animated  each  man  to  renewed  efforts. 

After  running  for  some  distance  longer  Rogers  sud- 
denly halted  and  held  up  his  hand,  and  the  band  simul- 
taneously came  to  a  halt.  At  first  nothing  could  be 
heard  save  their  own  quick  breathing,  then  a  confused 
noise  was  heard  to  their  left  front,  a  deep  trampling  and 
the  sound  of  voices,  and  an  occasional  clash  of  arms. 

"  It  is  the  French  column  coming  out,"  Nat  whis- 
pered, as  Rogers,  swerving  somewhat  to  the  right  and 
making  a  sign  that  all  should  run  as  silently  as  possible, 
continued  his  course. 


IMAGE  EVALUATION 
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23  WEST  MAIN  STREET 

WEBSTER,  N.Y.  14580 

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WITH   WOLFE  IN   CANADA. 


CHAPTER  XII. 


A  COMMISSION. 

Presently  the  noise  made  by  the  column  of  French 
troops  was  heard  abreast  of  the  fugitives,  then  it  died 
away  behind  them,  and  they  again  directed  their  course 
to  the  left.  Ten  minutes  later  they  heard  a  loud  succes- 
sion of  Indian  whoops  and  knew  that  the  redskins  pur- 
suing them  had  also  heard  the  French  column  on  its 
march,  and  would  be  warning  them  of  the  course  which 
the  band  were  taking.  The  scouts  were  now  but  four 
miles  from  Ticonderoga,  and  each  man  knew  that  it  was 
a  mere  question  of  speed. 

"  Throw  away  your  meat,"  Rogers  ordered,  "  you  will 
not  want  it  now,  and  every  pound  tells."  The  men  had 
already  got  rid  of  their  blankets,  and  were  now  bur- 
dened only  with  their  rifles  and  ammunition.  The 
ground  was  rough  and  broken,  for  they  were  nearing  the 
steep  promontory  on  which  the  French  fort  had  been 
erected.  They  were  still  a  mile  ahead  of  their  pursuers, 
and  although  the  latter  had  gained  that  distance  upon 
them  since  the  first  start,  the  scouts  knew  that  now  they 
were  exerting  themselves  to  the  utmost  the  redskins 
could  be  gaining  but  little  upon  them,  for  the  trained 
white  man  is,  in  point  of  speed  and  endurance,  fairly  a 
match  for  the  average  Indian.'  They  had  now  de- 
scended to  v/ithin  a  short  distance  of  the  edge  of  the 
lake  in  order  to  avoid  the  valleys  and  ravines  running 
down  from  the  hills.  The  war-whoops  rose  frequently 
in  the  forest  behind  them,  the  Indians  yelling  to  give 
those  at  the  fort  notice  that  the  chase  was  approaching. 

"  If  there  war  any  redskins  left  at  the  fort,"  Nat  said 
to  James,  "  they  would  guess  what  our  game  was ;  but 
I  expect  every  redskin  started  out  on  the  hunt,  and  the 
French  soldiers  when  they  hear  the  yelling  won't  know 
what  to  make  of  it,  and  if  they  do  anything  they  will 
shut  themselves  up  in  their  fort," 


^^^amm 


A  ca&iMig^io^. 


iSx 


Great  as  were  the  exertions  which  the  scouts  were 
making,  they  could  tell  by  the  sound  of  the  war-whoops 
that  some  at  least  of  the  Indians  were  gaining  upon 
them.  Accustomed  as  every  man  of  the  party  was  to 
the  fatigues  of  the  forest,  the  strain  was»  telling  upon 
them  all  now.  For  twelve  miles  they  had  run  aimost  at 
the  top  of  their  speed,  and  the  short  panting  breath,  the 
set  faces,  and  the  reeling  stepr.  showed  that  they  were 
nearly  at  the  end  of  their  powers.  Still  they  held  on 
with  scarcely  any  diminishing  of  speed.  Each  man 
knew  that  if  he  fell  he  must  die,  for  his  comrades  could 
do  nothing  for  him,  and  no  pause  was  possible  until  the 
boats  weie  gained. 

They  were  passing  now  under  the  French  w5rks, 
for  they  could  hear  shouting  on  the  high  ground  to  the 
righf  and  knew  that  the  troops  left  in  the  fort  had  taken 
the  a,;arm;  but  they  were  still  invisible,  for  it  was  only 
at  the  point  of  the  promontory  that  the  clearing  had 
been  carried  down  to  the  water's  edge.  A  low  cry  of 
relief  burst  from  the  men  as  they  saw  the  forest  open  be- 
fore them,  and  a  minute  later  they  were  running  along 
in  the  open  near  the  shore  of  the  lake  at  the  extremity 
of  the  promontory,  where,  hauled  up  upon  the  shore,  lay 
a  number  of  canoes  and  flat-bottomed  boats  used  for  the 
conveyance  of  troops.  A  number  of  boatmen  were 
standing  near,  evidently  alarmed  by  the  war-cries  in  the 
woods.  When  they  saw  the  party  approaching  they  at 
once  made  for  the  fort  a  quarter  of  a  mile  away  on  the 
high  ground,  and  almost  at  the  same  moment  a  drop- 
ping fire  of  musketry  opened  from  the  intrenchments. 

"  Smash  the  canoes,"  Rogers  said,  setting  the  ex- 
ample by  administering  a  vigorous  kick  to  one  of  them. 

The  others  followed  his  example,  and  in  a  few 
seconds  every  one  of  the  frail  barks  was  stove  in. 

"Two  of  the  boats  will  hold  us  well,"  Rogers  said; 
"  quick,  into  the  water  with  them  and  out  with  the  oars. 
Ten  row  in  each  boat,  let  the  other  five  handle  their 
rifles  and  keep  back  the  Indians  as  they  come  up. 
Never  mind  the  soldiers."    For  the  white-coated  troops. 


ftl 


;    t 


..4: 


'1  S 1 


tdi 


WitH  WOLr£  f^  exi^ADA. 


perceiving  the  scouts*  intention,  were  now  pouring  out 
from  the  intrenchments. 

A  couple  of  minutes  sufficed  for  the  men  to  launch  the 
boats  and  take' their  seats,  and  the  oars  dipped  in  the 
water  just  as«three  or  four  Indians  dashed  out  from  the 
edge  of  the  forest. 

"  We  have  won  the  race  by  three  minutes,"  Rogers 
said  exultantly;  ''  stretch  to  your  oars,  lads,  and  get  out 
of  range  as  soo'n  as  you  can." 

The  Indians  began  to  fire  as  soon  as  they  perceived 
the  boats.  They  were  scarcely  two  hundred  yards  away, 
but  they,  like  the  white  men,  were  panting  with  fatigue, 
and  their  bullets  flew  harmlessly  by. 

"t)on't  answer  yet,"  Rogers  ordered,  as  some  of  the 
scouts  were  preparing  to  fire.  "Wait  till  your  hands 
get  steady  and  then  fire  at  the  French;  there  won't  be 
many  of  the  redskins  up  yet." 

The  boats  were  -^k)!  two  hundred"  yards  from  shore 
when  the  French  solo.crs  reached  the  edge  of  the  water 
and  opened  fire,  but  at  this  distance  their  weapons  were 
of  little  avail,  and  though  the  bullets  splashed  thickly 
around  the  boats  no  one  was  injured,  while  several  of 
the  French  were  seen  to  drop  from  the  fire  of  the  scouts. 
Another  hundred  yards  and  the  boats  were  beyond  any 
danger  save  from  a  chance  shot.  The  Indians  still  con- 
tinued firing  and  several  of  their  shots  struck  the  boats, 
one  of  the  rowers  being  hit  in  the  shoulder. 

"  Lay  in  your  rifles  and  man  the  other  two  oars  in 
each  boat,"  Rogers  said;  "the  French  are  launching 
some  of  their  bateaux,  bi  t  we  have  got  a  fair  start  and 
they  won't  overtake  us  before  we  reach  the  opposite 
point.  They  are  fresher  than  we  are,  but  soldiers  are 
no  good  rowing;  besides,  they  are  sure  to  crowd  the 
boats  so  that  they  won't  have  a  chance." 

Five  or  six  boats,  each  crowded  with  men,  started  in 
pursuit,  but  they  were  fully  half  a  mile  behind  when  the 
two  English  boats  reached  the  shore. 

"  Now  it  is  our  turn,"  Rogers  said  as  the  men,  leaping 
ashore,  took  their  places  behind  trees.    As  soon  as  the 


impii 


A  C<)MMtSSt()}/. 


t^J 


Friench  boats  came  within  range  a  steady  fire  was 
opened  upon  them.  Confusion  was  at  once  apparent 
among  them,  oars  were  seen  to  drop,  and  as  the  fire  con- 
tinued the  rowing  ceased;  another  minute  and  the  boats 
were  turned  and  were  soon  rowing  out  again  into  the 
lake. 

"  There's  the  end  of  that,"  Rogers  said,  "  and  ^  close 
shave  it  has  been.  Well,  youngster,  what  do  you  think 
of  your  first  scout  in  the  woods?  " 

'*^It  has  been  sharper  than  I  bargained  for,"  James 
said;  laughing,  "and  was  pretty  near  being  the  last  as 
well  as  the  first.  If  it  hadn't  been  for  your  taking  us  to 
the  boats  I  don't  think  many  of  us  would  have  got  back 
to  Fort  Henry  to  tell  the  tale." 

"  There  is  generally  some  way  out  of  a  mess,"  Rogers 
said,  "  if  one  does  but  think  of  it.  If  I  had  not  thought 
of  the  French  boats  we  should  have  scattered,  and  a  few 
of  us  would  have  been  overtaken,  no  doubt ;  but  even  an 
Indian  cannot  follow  a  single  trail  as  fast  as  a  man  can 
run,  and  I  reckon  most  of  us  would  have  carried  our 
scalps  back  to  camp.  Still  with  the  woods  full  of  Iro- 
quois they  must  have  had  some  of  us,  and  I  hate  losing 
a  man  if  it  can  be  helped.^  We  are  well  out  of  it.  Now, 
lads,  we  had  better  be  tramping.  There  are  a  lot  more 
bateaux  coming  out,  and  I  expect  by  the  rowing  they 
are  manned  by  Indians.  The  redskin  is  a  first-rate  hand 
with  the  paddle,  but  is  no  good  with  an  oar." 

The  man  who  had  been  hit  in  the  shoulder  had  already 
had  his  wound  bandaged.  There  was  a  minute's  con- 
sultation as  to  whether  they  should  continue  their  jour- 
ney in  the  boats,  some  of  the  men  pointing  out  that  they 
had  proved  themselves  faster  than  their  pursuers. 

"That  may  be,"  Rogers  said;  "but  the  Indians  will 
land  and  follow  along  the  shore  and  will  soon  get  ahead 
of  us,  for  tliey  can  travel  quicker  than  we  can  row,  and 
for  aught  we  know  there  may  be  a  whole  fleet  of  canoes 
higher  up  Lake  George  which  would  cut  us  off.  No^ 
lads,  the  safest  way  is  to  keep  on  through  the  woods." 

The  decision  was  received  without  question^  and  the 


"'I 


:  IP 


:.«■'. 


t&i 


Wittt   AVOiFfe  iH  CANADA, 


party  at  once  started  at  a  swinging  trot,  which  was  kept 
up  with  occasional  intervals  of  walking  throughout  the 
day.  At  nightfall  their  course  was  changed,  and  after 
journeying  another  two  or  three  miles  a  halt  was  called, 
for  Rogers  was  sure  that  the  Indians  would  abandon 
pursuit  when  night  came  on  without  their  having  over- 
taken the  fugitives.  Before  daybreak  the  march  was 
continued,  and  in  the  afternoon  the  party  arrived  at  Fort 
William  Henry. 

James  now  determined  to  leave  the  force  and  return 
at  once  to  New  York,  where  his  letters  were  to  be  ad- 
dressed to  him.  He  took  with  him  a  letter  from  Gen- 
eral Johnson  speaking  in  the  warmest  tones  of  his 
conduct.  On  arriving  at  New  York  he  found  at  the 
post-office  there  a  great  pile  of  letters  awaiting  him. 
They  had  been  written  after  the  receipt  of  his  letter  at 
the  end  of  July,  telling  those  at  home  of  his  share  in 
Braddock's  disaster. 

"I  little  thought,  my  boy,"  his  mother  wrote,  "when 
we  received  your  letter  saying  that  you  got  your  dis- 
charge from  the  ship  and  were  going  wiih  an  expedition 
against  the  French,  that  you  were  going  to  run  into  such 
terrible  danger.  Fortunately  the  same  vessel  which 
brought  the  news  of  General  Braddock's  defeat  also 
brought  your  letter,  and  we  learned  the  news  only  a  few 
hours  before  your  letter  reached  us.  It  was,  as  you 
may  imagine,  a  time  of  terrible  anxiety  to  us,  and  the 
squire  and  Aggie  were  almost  as  anxious  as  I  was.  Mr. 
Wilks  did  his  best  to  cheer  us  all,  but  I  could  see  that  he 
too  felt  it  very  greatly.  However,  when  your  letter  came 
we  were  all  made  happy  again,  though  of  course  we  can- 
not be  but  anxiou5,  as  you  say  you  are  just  going  to 
join  another  expedition;  still  we  must  hope  that  that 
will  do  better,  as  it  won't  be  managed  by  regular  sol- 
diers. Mr.  Wilks  was  quite  angry  at  what  you  said 
about  the  folly  of  making  men  stand  in  a  line  to  be  shot 
at,  he  thinks  so  much  of  drill  and  discipline.  The  squire 
and  he  have  been  arguing  quite  fiercely  about  it;  but 
the  squire  gets  the  best  of  the  argument,  for  the  dread- 


A  COMMISSION. 


l8: 


!  I 
(  1 


ful  way  in  which  the  soldiers  were  slaughtered  shows 
that  though  that  sort  of  fighting  may  be  good  in  other 
places,  it  is  not  suited  for  fighting  these  wicked  Indiaiis 
in  the  woods.  The  squire  has  himself  been  up  to  Lon- 
don about  your  commission,  and  has  arranged  it  all. 
He  has,  as  he  will  tell  you  in  his  letter,  got  you  a  com- 
mission in  the  regiment  commanded  by  Colonel  Otway, 
which  is  to  go  out  next  spring.  He  was  introduced  to 
the  commander-in-chief  by  his  friend,  and  told  him  that 
you  had  been  acting  as  Colonel  Washington's  aid-de- 
camp with  General  Braddock,  and  that  you  have  now 
gone  to  join  General  Johnson's  army ;  so  the  duke  said 
that  though  you  would  be  gazetted  at  once  and  would 
belong  to  the  regiment,  you  might  as  \v;ell  stay  out  there 
and  see  service  until  it  arrived,  and  that  it  would  be  a 
great  advantage  to  the  regiment  to  have  an  officer  with 
experience  in  Indian-fighting  with  it.  I  cried  when  he 
brought  me  back  the  news,  for  I  had  hoped  to  have  you 
back  again  with  us  for  a  bit  before  you  went  soldiering 
for  good.  However,  the  squire  seems  to  think  it  is  a 
capital  thing  for  you.  Mr.  Wilks  thinks  so  too,  so  I 
suppose  I  must  put  up  with  it;  but  Aggie  agrees  with 
me  an  '  says  it  is  too  bad  that  she  should  never  have  seen 
you  once  from  the  time  when  she  saw  you  in  that  storm. 
She  is  a  dear  little  girl,  and  is  growing  fast.  I  think 
she  must  have  grown  quite  an  inch  in  the  five  months 
you  have  been  away.  She  sends  her  love  to  you,  and 
says  you  must  take  care  of  yourself  for  her  sake." 

The  squire  in  his  letter  repeated  the  news  Mrs.  Wal- 
sham  had  given. 

"  You  are  now  an  ensign,"  he  said,  "  and  if  you  go 
into  any  more  fights  before  your  regiment  arrives  you 
must,  Mr.  Wilks  said,  get  a  proper  uniform  made  for 
you,  and  fight  as  a  king's  officer.  I  send  you  a  copy  of 
the  gazette,  where  you  will  see  your  name." 

Mr.  Wilks'  letter  v/as  a  long  one.  "  I  felt  horribly 
guilty,  dear  Jim,"  he  said,  "  when  the  news  came  of  Brad- 
dock's  dreadvul  defeat.  I  could  hardly  look  your  dear 
mother  in  the  face,  and  thoug^h  the  kind  lady  wovld  nat| 


m 


!:; 


-If  >1 


i',i 


z86 


WITH   WOLFE  IN  CANADA. 


h 


I  know,  say  a  word  to  hurt  my  feelings  for  the  world, 
yet  I  could  see  that  she  regarded  me  as  a  monster,  for 
it  was  on  my  advice  that,  instead  of  coming  home  when 
you  got  your  discharge,  you  remained  out  there  and 
took  part  in  this  unfortunate  expedition.  I  could  see 
Aggie  felt  the  same,  and  though  I  did  my  best  to  keep 
up  their  spirits,  I  had  a  terrible  time  of  it  until  your  letter 
arrived  saying  you  were  safe.  If  it  had  not  come  I  do 
believe  that  I  should  have  gone  quietly  off  to  Exeter, 
hunted  up  my  box  again,  and  hired  a  boy  to  '•ush  it  for 
me,  for  I  am  not  so  strong  as  I  was.  But  I  would  rather 
have  tramped  about  for  the  rest  of  my  life  than  remain 
there  tmder  your  mother's  reproachful  eye.  However, 
thank  God,  you  c^me  through  it  all  right,  and  after  such 
a  lesson  I  should  hope. that  we  shall  never  have  repeti- 
tion of  such  a  disaster  as  that.  As  an  old  soldier  I  can- 
not agree  with  what  you  say  about  the  uselessness  of 
drill,  even  for  fighting  in  a  forest.  It  must  accustom 
men  to  listen  to  the  voice  of  their  officers  and  to  obey 
orders  promptly  and  quickly,  and  I  cannot  but  think 
that  if  the  troops  had  gone  forward  at  a  brisk  double 
they  would  have  driven  the  Indians  before  them.  As 
to  the  whooping  and  yells  you  talk  so  much  about,  I 
should  think  nothing  of  them;  they  are  no  more  to  be 
regarded  than  the  shrieks  of  women  or  the  braying  of 
donkeys." 

James  smiled  as  he  read  this,  and  thought  that  if  the 
old  soldier  had  heard  that  chaos  of  blood-curdling  cries 
break  out  in  the  still  depth  of  the  forest  he  would  not 
write  of  them  with  such  equanimity. 

"  You  will  have  heard  from  the  squire  that  you  are 
gazetted  to  Otway*s  regiment,  which  with  others  is  to 
cross  the  Atlantic  in  a  few  weeks,  when  it  is  generally 
supposed  war  will  be  formally  declared.  Your  experi- 
ence will  be  of  great  use  to  you,  and  ought  to  get  you  a 
good  staff  appointment.  I  expect  that  in  the  course  c;f 
a  year  there  will  be  .fighting  on  a  large  scale  on  yovr 
side  of  the  water,  and  the  English  ought  to  get  the  best 
of  it,  for  France  seems  at  present  to  be  thinking  a  great 


■iPPIVll 


A  COMMISSION. 


i«7 


» 


deal  more  of  her  affairs  in  Europe  than  of  her  colonies 
in  America.  So  much  the  better,  for  if  we  can  take 
Canada  we  shall  strike  a  heavy  blow  to  her  trade,  and 
some  day  North  America  is  going  to  be  an  important 
place  in  the  world." 

The  letters  had  been  lying  there  several  weeks,  and 
James  knew  that  Otway's  regiment  had  with  the  others 
arrived  a  few  days  before,  and  had  already  marched  for 
Albany.  Thinking  himself  entitled,  to  a  little  rest  after 
his  labors,  he  remained  for  another  week  in  New  York 
while  his  uniform  was  being  made,  and  then  took  pas- 
sage in  a  trading  boat  up  to  Albany.  Scarcely  had  he 
landed  when  a  young  officer  in  the  same  uniform  met 
him.     He  looked  surprised,  hesitated,  and  then  stopped. 

"  I  see  you  belong  to  our  regiment,"  he  said;  "  have 
you  just  arrived  from  England?  What  ship  did  you 
come  in?" 

"  I  have  been  out  here  some  time,"  James  replied. 
"  My  name  is  Walsham.  I  believe  I  was  gazetted  to 
your  regiment  some  months  ago,  but  I  only  heard  the 
news  on  my  arrival  in  New  York  last  week." 

"Oh,  you  are  Walsham!"  the  young  officer  said. 
"  My  name  is  Edwards.  I  am  glad  to  meet  you.  We 
have  been  wondering  when  you  would  join  us,  and  envy- 
ing your  luck  in  seeing  so  much  of  the  fighting  out  here. 
Our  regiment  is  encamped  about  half  a  mile  from  here. 
If  you  will  let  me  I  will  go  back  with  you  and  introduce 
you  to  our  fellows." 

James  thanked  him,  and  the  two  walked  along  talk- 
ing together.  James  learned  that  there  were  already 
five  ensigns  junior  to  himself,  his  new  acquaintance 
being  one  of  them,  as  the  regiment  had  been  somewhat 
short  of  officers,  and  the  vacancies  had  been  filled  up 
shortly  before  it  sailed.  * 

"  Of  course  we  must  call  on  the  colonel  first,"  Mr. 
Edwards  said.  "  He  is  a  capital  fellow,  and  very  much 
liked  in  the  regiment." 

Colonel  Otway  received  James  with  grr^at  cordiality. 

'*  We  are  very  glad  to  get  you  with  us,  Mr.  Walsham/' 


1?^ 


II 


;*i 


- 1;  ■ ' 


i 


Ki 


^\ 


^ 


•I 
oi    1 


s 


I 


•^i!jM 


i88 


WITH   WOLFE  IN  CANADA. 


he  said,  "  and  we  consider  it  a  credit  to  the  regiment  to 
have  a  young  officer  who  has  been  three  times  men- 
tioned in  dispatches.  You  will,  too,  be  of  great  service 
to  us,  and  will  be  able  to  give  us  a  good  many  hints  as 
to  this  Indian  method  of  fighting  which  Braddock's 
men  found  so  terrible." 

"It  is  not  formidable,  sir,  when  you  are  accustomed 
to  it;  but,  unfortunately.  General  braddock  forced  his 
men  to  fight  in  regular  fashion — ^that  is,  to  stand  up 
and  be  shot  at,  and  that  mode  of  fighting  in  the  woods 
is  fatal.  A  hundred  redskins  would  be  more  than  a 
match  in  the  forest  for  ten  times  their  number  of  white 
troops  who  persisted  in  fighting  in  such  a  ridiculous 
way;  but  fighting  in  their  own  way,  white  men  are  a 
match  for  the  redskins.  Indeed,  the  frontiersmen  can 
thrash  the  Indians  even  if  they  are  two  or  three  to  one 
against  them." 

"  You  have  been  in  this  last  affair  on  the  lake, 
have  you  not,  Mr.  Walsham?  I  heard  you  were  with 
Johnson." 

"Yes,  sir,  I  was,  and  at  the  beginning  it  was  very 
nearly  a  repetition  of  Braddock's  disaster;  but  after 
being  surprised  and  at  first  beaten,  the  column  that  went 
out  made  such  a  stout  fight  of  it  that  it  gave  us  time  to 
put  the  camp  in  a  state  of  defense.  Had  the  Indians 
made  a  rush,  I  think  they  would  have  carried  it;  but  as 
they  contented  themselves  with  keeping  up  a  distant 
fire,  the  provincials,  who  were  all  young  troops  quite 
unaccustomed  to  fighting  and  wholly  without  drill  or 
discipline,  gradually  got  steady  and  at  length  sallied  out 
and  beat  them  decisively." 

"  I  will  not  detain  you  now,"  the  colonel  said ;  "  but 
I  hope  ere  long  you  will  give  us  a  full  and  detailed 
account  of  the  fighting  yoti  have  been  in,  with  your  idea 
of  the  best  way  of  training  regular  troops  for  the  sort  of 
work  we  have  before  us.  Mr.  Edwards  will  take  you 
over  to  the  mess  and  introduce  you  to  your  brother 
officers." 

James  was  well  received  by  the  officers  of  his  regi- 


^ 


A  C0MMISS10>f. 


189 


ment,  and  soon  found  himself  perfectly  at  home  with 
them.  He  had  to  devote  some  hours  every  day  to 
acquiring  the  mysteries  of  drill.  It  was  to  him  some- 
what funny  to  see  the  pains  expended  in  assuring  that 
each  movement  should  be  performed  with  mechanical 
accuracy;  but  he  understood  that,  although  useless  for 
such  warfare  as  that  which  they  had  before  them,  great 
accuracy  in  details  was  necessary  for  insuring  .uniformity 
oi  movement  among  large  masses  of  men  in  an  open 
country.  Otherwise  the  time  passed  very  pleasantly. 
James  soon  became  a  favorite  in  the  regiment,  and  the 
young  officers  never  tired  of  questioning  him  concern- 
ing the  redskins  and  their  manner  of  fighting.  There 
were  plenty  of  amusements;  the  snow  was  deep  on  the 
ground  now,  and  the  officers  skated,  practiced  with 
snow-shoes,  and  drove  in  sleighs.  Occasionally  they 
got  up  a  dance,  and  the  people  of  Albany  and  the  set- 
tlers around  vied  with  each  other  in  their  hospitality  to 
the  officers. 

One  day  in  February  an  orderly  brought  a  message 
to  James  Walsham  that  the  colonel  wished  to  speak  to 
him.  ^ 

"  Walsham,"  he  said,  "  I  may  tell  you  privately  that 
the  regiment  is  likely  to  form  part  of  the  expedition 
which  is  being  fitted  out  in  England  against  Louis- 
bourg,  in  Cape  Breton,  the  key  of  Canada;  a  considera- 
ble number  of  the  troops  from  the  province  will 
accompany  it." 

"  But  that  wjll  leave  the  frontier  here  altogether  open 
to  the  enemy,"  James  said  in  surprise. 

"  That  is  my  own  opinion,  Walsham.  Louisbourg  is 
altogether  outside  the  rang-e  of  the  present  struggle,  and 
it  seems  to  me  that  the  British  force  should  be  employed 
at  striking  at  a  vital  point.  However,  that  is  not  to  the 
purpose.  It  is  the  Earl  of  Loudon's  plan.  However, 
it  is  manifest,  as  you  say,  that  the  frontier  will  be  left 
terribly  open,  and  therefore  two  companies  of  each  of 
the  regiments  going  will  be  left.  Naturally,  as  you  are 
the  only  officer  in  the  regiment  who  has  had  any  experi-^ 


I 


mi 


'wt. 


1 


m 


m 


t^ 


WITH  WOLFfi  IN  CANADA. 


I 


ence  in  this  forest  warfare  you  would  be  one  of  those 
left  here;  but  as  an  ensign  you  would  not  have  much 
influence,  and  I  think  that  it  would  be  at  once  more  use- 
ful to  the  service  and  more  pleasant  for  yourself  if  I  can 
obtain  for  you  something  like  a  roving  commission. 
What  do  you  think  of  that?  " 

"  I  should  greatly  prefer  that,  sir/'  James  said 
gratefully. 

"  The  general  is  a  little  vexed,  I  know,"  the  colonel 
went  on,  "  at  the  numerous  successes  and  daring  feats 
gained  by  Rogers  and  the  other  leaders  of  the  companies 
of  scouts,  while  the  regulars  have  not  had  an  opportunity 
to  fire  a  shot,  and  I  think  that  he  would  at  once  accept 
the  proposal,  were  I  to  make  it  to  him,  that  a  company 
to  be  called  the  Royal  Scouts  should  be  formed  of  volun- 
teers taken  from  the  various  Iregiments,  and  that  you 
should  have  the  command." 

"  Thank  you,  sir,"  James  said,  "  and  I  should  like  it 
above  all  things;  but  I  fear  that  we  should  have  no 
chance  whatever  of  rivaling  the  work  of  Rogers  and 
the  other  partisan  leaders.  These  men  are  all  trained 
to  the  work  of  the  woods,  accustomed  to  fight  Indians, 
equally  at  home  in  a  canoe  or  in  the  forest.  I  have  had, 
as  you  are  good  enough  to  say,  some  experience  in  the 
work,  but  I  am  a  mere  child  by  their  side,  and  were  I 
to  lead  fifty  English  soldiers  in  the  forest  I  fear  that 
none  of  us  would  ever  return." 

"Yes,  but  I  should  not  propose  that  you  should 
engage  in  enterprises  of  that  sort,  Walsham.  My  idea 
is  that  although  you  would  have  an  independent  com- 
mand with  very  considerable  freedom  of  action,  you 
would  act  in  connection  with  the  regular  troops;  the 
scouts  are  often  far  away  when  wanted,  leaving  the  posts 
open  to  surprise.  They  are  so  impatient  of  any  disci- 
pline that  they  are  averse  to  going  near  the  forts, 
except  to  obtain  fresh  supplies.  You,  on  the  contrary, 
would  act  as  the  eyes  of  any  post  which  you  might 
think  threat^ened  by  the  enemy.  At  present,  for  in- 
stance, Fort  William  Henry  is  the  most  exposed  to 


A  (^OMMISSIOR 


191 


attack.  You  would  take  your  command  there,  and 
would  report  yourself  to  Major  Eyre,  who  is  in  com- 
mand. As  for  service  there,  your  letter  of  appointment 
would  state  that  you  are  authorized  to  act  independently, 
but  that  while  it  would  be  your  duty  to  obey  the  orders 
of  the  commanding  officer,  you  will  be  authorized  to 
offer  such  suggestions  to  him  as  your  experience  in 
Indian  warfare  would  lead  you  to  make.  You  would 
train  your  men  as  scouts.  It  would  be  their  special 
duty  to  guard  the  fort  against  surprise,  and  of  course 
in  case  of  attack  to  take  part  in  its  defense.  In  the 
event  of  the  provincial  scouts  making  any  concerted 
movement  against  a  French  post,  you  wQuld  be  author- 
ized to  join  them.  You  would  then  have  the  benefit 
of  their  skill  and  experience,  and  in  case  of  success  the 
army  would  get  a  share  of  the  credit.  What  do  you 
think  of  my  plan?  " 

"  I  should  like  it  above  all  things,"  James  replied. 
"  That  would  be  precisely  the  duty  which  I  should  select 
had  I  the  choice." 

"  I  thought  so,"  the  colonel  said.  "  I  have  formed 
a  very  high  opinion  of  your  judgment  and  discretion 
from  the  talks  which  we  have  had  together,  and  I  have 
spoken  strongly  in  your  favor  to  the  general,  who  had 
promised  me -that  in  the  event  of  the  army  moving  for- 
ward you  should  have  an  appointment  on  the  quarter- 
mastei--generars  staff  as  an  intelligence  officer. 

"  Since  I  heard  that  the  main  portion  of  the  army  is 
to  sail  to  Louisbourg  I  have  been  thinking  this  plan 
over,  and  it  certainly  seems  to  me  that  a  corps  such  as 
that  that  I  have  suggested  would  be  of  great  service.  I 
should  think  that  its  strength  should  be  fifty  men.  You 
will,  of  course,  have  another  officer  with  you.  Is  there 
anyone  you  would  like  to  choose,  as  I  may  as  well  take 
tiie  whole  scheme  cut  and  dried  to  the  general?  " 

"  I  should  like  Mr.  Edwards,  sir;  he  is  junior  to  me 
in  the  regiment,  and  is  very  active  and  zealous  in  the 
service,  and  I  should  greatly  like  to  be  allowed  to  enlist 
temporarily  two  of  the  scouts  I  have  served  with  in  the 


I 


I 


mm 


mmmmmmmtt 


tgi 


MrlTH  W0LF£  m  CANADA. 


force,  with  power  for  them  to  take  their  discharge  when 
they  wished.  They  would  be  of  immense  utiHty  to  me 
in  instructing  the  men  in  their  new  duties,  and  would 
add  greatly  to  our  efficiency." 

"  So  be  it,"  the  colonel  said.  '*  I  will  draw  out  the 
scheme  oa  paper  and  lay  it  before  the  general  to-day." 

In  the  afternoon  James  was  again  sent  for. 

"  The  earl  has  approved  of  my  scheme.  You  will 
have  temporary  rank  as  captain  given  you  in  order  to 
place  your  corps  on  an  equal  footing  wifh  the  provincial 
corps  of  scouts.  Mr.  Edwards  will  also  have  temporary 
rank  as  lieutenant.  The  men  of  the  six  companies  of 
the  three  regiments  will  be  paraded  to-morrow  and  asked 
for  volunteers  for  the  special  service.  If  there  are  more 
than  fifty  offer  you  can  select  your  own  men." 

Accordingly  the  next  morning  the  troops  to  be  left 
behind  were  paraded,  and  an  order  was  read  out  saying 
that  a  corps  of  scouts  for  special  service  was  to  be  raised, 
and  that  volunteers  were  requested.  Upward  of  a  hun- 
dred men  stepped  forward,  and  being  formed  in  line 
James  selected  from  them  fifty  who  appeared  to  him 
the  most  hardy,  active,  anA  intelligent-looking.  He 
himself  had  that  morning  been  put  in  orders  as  captain 
of  the  new  corps,  and  h;\d  assumed  the  insignia  of  his 
temporary  rank.  The  colonel  had  placed  at  his  disposal 
two  intelligent  young  non-commissioned  officers. 

The  next  morning  he  marched  with  his  command  for 
Fort  William  Henry.  No  sooner  had  he  left  the  open 
country  and  entered  the  woods  than  he  began  to  instruct 
the  men  in  their  new  duties.  The  whole  of  them  were 
thrown  out  as  skirmishers  and  aught  to  advance  in 
Indian  fashion,  each  man  sheltering  himself  behind  a 
tree,  scanning  the  woods  carefully  ahead,  and  then,  fix- 
ing his  eyes  on  another  tree  ahead,  to  advance  to  it  at 
a  sharp  run  and  shelter  there. 

All  this  was  new  to  the  soldiers,  hitherto  drilled  only 
in  solid  formation  or  in  skirmishing  in  the  open,  and 
when,  at  the  end  of  ten  miles'  skirmishing  through  the 
wood,  they  were  halted  and  ordered  to  bivouac  for  the 


„il!,.i-l».i|'l 


llPWWi^^Pi^l^^^^»!»^"P^*V^ 


^^^ 


A  COMMISSION. 


«0S 


nighty  James  felt  that  his  men  were  beginning  to  have 
some  idea  of  forest  fighting.  The  men  themselves  were 
greatly  pleased  with  their  day's  work.  It  was  a  wel- 
come change  after  the  long  monotony  of  life  in  a  stand- 
ing camp,  and  the  day's  work  had  given  them  a  high 
opinion  of  the  fitness  of  their  young  officer  for  command. 

But  the  work  and  instruction  was  not  over  for  the 
day.  Hitherto  none  of  the  men  had  had  any  experience 
in  camping  in  the  open.  James  now  showed  them  how 
to  make  comfortable  shelters  against  the  cold  with  two 
forked  sticks  and  one  laid  across  them,  and  with  a  few 
boughs  and  a  blanket  laid  over  them,  with  dead  leaves 
heaped  around  the  bottom  and  ends;  and  Kow  best  to 
arrange  their  fires  and  cook  their  food. 

During  the  following  days  the  same  work  was  re- 
peated, and  when,  after  a  week's  marching,  the  force 
issued  from  the  forest  into  the  clearing  around  Fort 
William  Henry,  James  felt  confident  that  his  men  would 
be  able  to  hold  their  own  in  a  brush  with  the  Indians. 
Major  Eyre,  to  whom  James  reported  himself  and 
showed  his  appointment  defining  his  authority  and 
duties,  expressed  much  satisfaction  at  the  arrival  of  the 
reinforcement. 

"There  are  rumors  brought  here  by  the  scouts,"  he 
said,  "  that  a  strong  force  will  ere  long  come  down  from* 
Crown  Point  to  Ticonderoga,  and  that  we  shall  be 
attacked.  Now  that  the  lake  is  frozen  regular  troops 
could  march  without  difficulty,  and  my  force  here  is 
very  inadequate  considering  the  strength  with  which  the 
French  will  attack.  None  of  my  officers  or  men  have 
any  experience  of  the  Indian  methods  of  attack,  and  your 
experience  will  be  very  valuable.  It  is  a  pity  that  they 
do  not  give  me  one  of  these  companies  of  scouts  per- 
manently. Sometimes  one  or  other  of  them  is  here,  but 
often  I  am  without  any  of  the  provincials,  and  although 
I  have  every  confidence  in  my  officers  and  men,  one 
cannot  but  feel  that  it  is  a  great  disadvantage  to  be 
exposed  to  the  attack  of  an  enemy  of  whose  tactics  one 
is  altogether  ignorant.    You  will,  of  course,  encamp 


'Si 


'Jl 


■IS 


H 
.1 

u 

p 
m 


I 


I 


I, 
II, 

I 


:)   ' 


'm 


194 


WITH   WOLFE  IN   CANADA. 


your  men  Inside  the  fort.  I  see  you  have  brought  no 
baggage  with  you,  but  I  have  some  spare  tents  here 
which  are  at  your  service." 

"  Thank  you,  sir,"  James  replied.  "  I  shall  be  glad  to 
put  the  men  under  cover  while  they  are  here, .but  I 
intend  to  practice  them  as  much  as  possible  in  scouting 
and  camping  in  the  woods,  and  although  I  shall  always 
be  in  the  neighborhood  of  the  fort,  I  do  not  propose 
always  to  return  here  at  night.  Are  any  of  Captain 
Rogers*  corps  at  present  at  the  fort?  " 

"  Some  of  them  came  in  last  night,"  Major  Eyre 
replied. 

"  I  have  authority,"  James  said,  "  to  enlist  two  of  them 
in  my  corps." 

Major  Eyre  smiled. 

"  I  do  not  think  you  will  find  any  of  them  readv  to 
submit  to  military  discipline  or  to  put  on  a  red  coat. 

"They  are  all  accustomed  to  obey  orders  promptly 
enough  when  at  work,"  James  said,  "  though  there  is  no 
attempt  at  discipline  when  off  duty.  You  see  them  at 
their  worst  here.  There  is,  of  course,  nothing  like  mili- 
tary order  in  the  woods,  but  obedience  is  just  as  prompt 
as  among  our  troops.  As  to  the  uniform,  I  agree  with 
you ;  but  on  that  head  I  should  not  be  particular.  I  can 
*  hardly  fancy  any  of  the  scouts  buttoned  tightly  up  with 
stiff  collars;  but  as,  Tifter. all,  although  they  are  enlisted, 
they  will  be  attached  to  the  corps  rather  than  be  regular 
members  of  it,  I  do  not  think  I  need  insist  upon  the 
uniform." 

After  leaving  the  major,  James  saw  to  the  pitching  of 
the  tents  and  the  comforts  of  his  men,  and  when  he  had 
done  so  strolled  off  toward  a  group  of  scouts  who  were 
watching  his  proceedings,  and  among  whom  he  recog- 
nized the  two  men  for  whom  he  was  looking.  He 
received  a  cordial  greeting  from  all  who  had  taken  part 
in  his  previous  adventures  with  Captain  Rogers'  band. 

"  And  so  you  are  in  command  of  this  party?  "  Nat 
said.  "  I  asiced  one  of  the  meA  just  now,  and  he  said 
^ou  were  the  captain.    You  are  young  to  be  a  captain^ 


m. 


fmmm 


A  ediiiMisstoi?. 


fi9i 


but  at  any  rate  it's  a  good  thing  to  have  a  king's  officer 
here  vvho  knows  something  about  the  woods.  The  rest 
aint  no  more  idea  of  them  than  nothing." 

"  I  want  to  chat  to  you,  Nat,  and  also  to  Jonathan,  if 
you  will  come  across  with  me  to  my  tent." 

*"  I'm  agreeable,"  Nat  said;  and  the  two  scouts  walked 
across  to  the  tent  with  James.  Lieutenant  Edwards,  who 
shared  the  tent  with  him,  was  inside  arranging  a  few 
things  which  Major  Eyre  had  sent  down  for  their  use. 

"  Edwards,  these  are  the  two  •'couts,  Nat  and  Jona- 
than, of  whom  you  have  often  heard  me  speak.  Now 
let  us  sit  down  and  have  a  chat.  There  is  some  first- 
rate  rum  in  that  bottle,  Nat,  there  are  two  tin  pannikins, 
and  there  is  water  in  that  keg. 

"  Now,  Nat,"  he  went  on,  when  the  party  were  seated 
on  blankets  laid  on  the  ground,  "  this  corps  of  min  i  has 
been  raised  specially  to  act  as  scouts  round  this  or  any 
other  fort  which  may  be  threatened,  or  to  act  as  the 
advanced  guard  of  a  column  of  troops." 

"  But  what  do  they  know  of  scouting? "  Nat  said 
contemptuously.  "  They  don't  know  no  more  than 
children." 

•*  They  don't  know  much,  but  they  are  active  fellows 
and  ready  to  learn.  I  think  you  will  find  that  already 
they  have  a  pretty  fair  idea  of  fighting  in  Indian  fashion 
in  the  woods,  and  as  I  have  authority  to  draw  extra  sup- 
plies of  ball  cartridge,  I  hope  in  a  few  weeks  to  make 
fair  shots  of  them.  You  have  taught  me  something  of 
forest  ways,  and  I  shall  teach  them  all  I  know;  but  we 
want  better  teachers,  and  I  want  to  propose  to  you  and 
Jonathan  to  join  the  corps." 

"  What,  and  put  on  a  red  coat,  and  choke  ourselves  up 
with  a  stiff  collar!"  Nat  ^aughed;  "nice  figures  we 
should  look!     No,  no,  captain,  that  would  never  do." 

"  No,  I  don't  propose  that  you  should  wear  uniform, 
Nat.  I  have  got  a  special  authority  to  enlist  you  and 
Jonathan,  with  the  understanding  that  you  can  take  your 
discharge  whenever  you  like.  There  will  be  no  drilling 
in  line  or  anything  of  that  sort.    It  will  be  just  scouting 


i 


t 
?; 


'4  ■ 


I 


■  ■'   I 


iamlmmtmmmmimmsmamKmmtm, 


i***.*!!!*™.  4..»-ai.., 


t96 


WifH   WoLfE  Itt   CANADA. 


work,  the  same  as  with  Captain  Rogers,  except  that  we 
shall  not  make  long  expeditions  as  he  does,  but  keep  in 
the  neighborhood  of  the  fort.  I  should  want  you  to  act 
both  as  scouts  and  instructors,  to  teach  the  men,  as  you 
have  taught  me,  something  of  woodcraft,  how  to  find 
their  way  in  a  forest,  and  how  to  fight  the  Indians  in 
their  own  way,  and  to  be  up  to  Indian  devices.  You 
will  be  guides  on  the  line  of  march,  will  warn  me  of 
danger,  and  suggest  the  best  plan  of  meeting  it.  You 
will,  in  fact,  be  scouts  attached  to  the  corps,  only  nomi- 
nally you  will  be  members  of  it.  I  know  your  ways,  and 
should  not  exact  any  observance  of  discipline  more  than 
that  which  you  have  with  Rogers,  and  should  treat  you 
in  the  light  of  non-commissioned  officers." 

"Well,  and  what  do  you  say,  Jonathan?"  Nat  said, 
turning  to  his  tall  companion.  "  You  and  I  have  both 
taken  a  fancy  to  the  captain  here,  and  though  he  has 
picked  up  a  lot  for  a  young  'un,  and  will  in  time  mike 
a  first-rate  hand  in  the  woods,  I  guess  he  won't  make 
much  hand  of  it  yet  if  he  hasn't  got  someone  as  knows 
the  woods  by  his  side.  We  have  had  a  spell  of  hard 
work  of  it  with  Rogers  lately,  and  I  don't  mind  if  I  have 
a  change  for  a  bit  with  the  red-coats." 

"  I  will  go,  of  course,"  Jonathan  said  briefly. 

"Very  well,  then  that's  settled,  captain,"  Nat  said. 
"  Rogers  will  be  in  td-night,  and  I  will  tell  him  we  are 
going  to  transfer  ourselves  over  to  you." 

"  He  won't  mind,  I  hope,"  James  said. 

"  He  won't  mind,"  Nat  replied.  "  We  aint  very  par- 
ticular about  times  of  service  in  our  corps.  We  just 
comes  and  goes  pretty  well  as  the  fancy  takes  us.  They 
would  never  get  us  to  join  if  they  wanted  to  get  us  to 
bind  down  hard  and  fast.  Sometimes  they  start  on  an 
expedition  fifty  strong,  next  time  perhaps  not  more  than 
thirty  turns  up.  Is  there  anything  to  do  to  join  the 
corps?" 

"  Not  much,  Nat.  I  give  you  each  a  shilling  and 
attest  you,  that  is  to  say,  swear  you  in  to  serve  the  king, 
Sind  in  your  case  give  you  a  paper  saying  that  you  are 


i^ 


^K 


■■■ 


AK   ABORTIVE   ATTACK. 


197 


authorized  to  take  your  discharge  whensoever  it  pleases 
you." 

"Very  well,  captain;  then  on  those  terms  we  join, 
always  understood  as  we  don't  have  to  put  on  red  coats." 

The  two  men  were  sworn  in,  and  then  Nat  standing 
up,  said: 

"And  now,  captain,  discipline  is  discipline;  what's 
your  orders?  " 

James  went  to  the  door  of  the  tent  and  called  the 
sergeant. 

"  Sergeant,  these  two  men  are  enlisted  as  scouts  in  the 
corps;  they  will  draw  rations  and  be  a  regular  part  of  the 
company  like  the  rest,  but  they  will  not  wear  uniform, 
acting  only  as  scouts.  They  will  have  the  rank  and  posi- 
tion of  corporals,  and  will  specially  instruct  the  men  in 
woodcraft  and  in  the  ways  of  the  Indians.  They  will, 
of  course,  occupy  the  tent  with  the  non-commissioned 
officers  and  will  mess  with  them.  Being  engaged  as 
scouts  only  they  will  in  other  respects  be  free  from  any- 
thing like  strictness.  I  triist  that  you  will  do  what  you 
can  to  make  them  comfortable." 

The  sergeant  saluted  and  led  the  two  scouts  over  to 
the  tent  occupied  by  himself  and  the  other  non-commis- 
sioned officers,  and  the  roars  of  laughter  that  issued 
from  it  in  the  course  of  the  evening  at  the  anecdotes  of 
the  scouts  showed  that  the  new-comers  were  likely  to  be 
highly  popular  characters  in  their  mess. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 


AN  ABORTIVE  ATTACK. 


m 


M 


[I 


■;•• 


«i.i 


if!/ 

I; 


Three  weeks  passed.  James  kept  his  men  steadily  at 
work,  and  even  the  scouts  allowed  that  they  made  great 
progress.  Sometimes  they  went  out  in  two  parties  with 
an  officer  and  a  scout  to  each,  and  their  pouches  filled 
with  blank  cartridge.  Each  would  do  its  best  to  sur- 
prise the  other;  and  when  they  met  a  mimic  fight  would 


I 


198 


WITH  WOLPB  IN  CANADA. 


take  place,  the  men  shelteiing  behind  trees  and  firing 
only  when  they  obtained  a  glimpse  of  an  adversary. 

"  I  did  not  think  that  these  pipe-clayed  soldiers  could 
have  been  so  spry,"  Nat  said  to  James.  "They  have 
picked  up  wonderfully,  and  I  wouldn't  mind  going  into 
an  Indian  fight  with  them.  They  are  improving  with 
their  muskets.  Their  shooting  yesterday  wasn't  bad  by 
no  means.  In  three  months*  time  they  will  be  as  good 
a  lot  to  handle  as  any  of  the  companies  of  scouts." 

Besides  the  daily  exercises  the  company  did  scouting 
work  at  nifc;ht,  ten  men  being  out  by  turns  in  the  woods 
bordering  the  lake.  At  one  o'clock  in  the  morning  on 
the  19th  of  March  Nat  came  into  the  officers*  tent. 

"  Captain,**  he  said,  "  get  up.  There's  something 
afoot.** 

"  What  is  it,  Nat?  *'  James  asked  as  he  threw  oflf  his 
rugs. 

"  It*s  the  French,  at  least  I  don't  see  who  else  it  can 
be.  It  was  my  turn  to-night  to  go  round  and  look  after 
our  sentries.  When  I  came  to  Jim  Bryan,  who  was 
stationed  just  at  the  edge  of  the  lake,  I  said  to  him, 
'Anything  new,  Jim?*  and  he  says,  *  Yes;  seems  to  me 
as  I  can  hear  a  hammering  in  the  woods.*  I  listens, 
and  sure  enough  axes  were  going.  It  may  be  some 
three  miles  down;  the  night  is  still,  a^id  the  ice  brought 
the  sound.  *  That*s  one  for  you,  Jim,*  says  I.  *  Them's 
axes  sure  enough.*  I  stands  and  looks,  and  then  a  long 
way  down  the  lake  on  the  left  I  sees  a  faint  glare.  They 
had  had  the  sense  to  light  the  fires  where  we  couldn't  see 
them;  but  there  were  the  lights  sure  enough.  It's  the 
French,  captain;  the  redskins  would  never  have  made 
fires  like  that,  and  if  it  had  been  a  party  of  our  scouts 
they  would  have  come  on  here,  and  not  halted  an  hour's 
tramp  away.  You  had  best  get  the  troops  under  arms, 
captain.  Who  would  have  thought  they  would  have 
been  such  fools  as  to  light  their  fires  within  sight  of  the 
fort!" 

James  at  once  went  to  Major  Eyre's  quarters  and 
aroused  him^  and  in  a  few  minutes  the  garrison  were  all 


I 


AN  ABORTIVE  ATTACK. 


m 


«» 


under  arms.  Their  strength,  including  James  Wal- 
sham's  corps  and  some  scouts  of  the  company  of  John 
Stark,  numbered  346  men,  besides  which  there  were 
128  invalids  in  hospital. 

Two  hours  passed,  and  then  a  confused  sound  as  of 
a  great  body  of  men  moving  on  the  ice  was  heard.  The 
ice  was  bare  of  snow  and  nothing  could  be  seen,  but  the 
cannon  on  the  side  facing  the  lake  at  once  opened  fire 
with  grape  and  round  shot  in  the  direction  of  the  sound. 

After  firing  for  a  few  minutes  they  were  silent.  The 
sound  on  the  ice  could  no  longer  be  heard. 

"  They  have  taken  to  the  woods,"  Nat,  who  had  taken 
up  his  station  next  to  James  Walsham,  said;  "it  aint 
likely  they  would  stop  on  the  ice  with  the  balls  pound- 
ing it  up." 

"  Do  you  think  they  will  attack  before  morning? " 
James  asked. 

"  It  aint  likely,"  Nat  replied.  "  They  won't  know  the 
positions,  and  such  a  dark  night  as  this  they  wouldn't 
be  able  to  make  out  anything  about  them.  If  they 
could  have  come  straight  along  the  ice  to  the  head  of 
the  lake  here  they  would  have  made  a  dash,  no  doubt; 
but  now  they  find  we  aint  to  be  caught  auleep  I  expect 
they  will  wait  till  morning." 

Again  the  sound  of  axes  was  heard  in  the  wood,  and 
the  glare  of  light  appeared  above  the  trees. 

"  There  must  be  a  tidy  lot  of  'em,"  Nat  said. 

**  Do  you  think  it  will  be  any  use  to  go  out  a.nd  try  to 
surprise  them?  " 

"  Not  a  bit,  captain.  They  are  sure  to  have  a  lot  of 
redskins  with  them,  and  they  will  be  lurking  in  the 
woods  in  hopes  that  we  may  try  such  a  move.  No — ^we 
have  got  a  strong  position  here  and  can  lick  them  three 
to  one;  but  in  the  woods,  except  Stark's  men  and  per- 
haps yours,  none  of  the  others  wouldn't  be  no  good  at 
all." 

Major  Eyre  shortly  afterward  sent  for  James,  who 
gave  him  the  opinion  of  the  scout,  and  the  major  then 
ordered  the  troops  to  get  under  shefter  again,  leaving 


n 


I 

it  "  ■ 


li 


:ii;M 


iod 


WITH  WOLFE  IN  CAKADA. 


Stark's  men  to  act  as  sentries,  for  the  night  was  bitterly 
cold.    ^ 

It  was  not  until  ten  o'clock  next  day  that  the  French 
appeared,  and,  surrounding  the  fort  on  all  sides  except 
on  that  of  the  lake,  opened  heavy  musketry  fire  upon  it. 
They  were  a  formidable  body.  Vaudreuil,  the  governor 
of  Canada,  had  spared  no  pains  to  make  the  blow 
a  successful  one.  The  force  had  been  assembled  at 
Crown  Point,  and  numbered  1600  regulars,  Cana- 
dians, and  Indians.  Everything  needful  for  their  com- 
fort had  been  provided — overcoats,  blankets,  bear-skins 
to  sleep  on,  and  tarpaulins  to  cover  them.  They  had 
been  provided  with  twelve  days'  provisions,  which  were 
placed  on  hand-sledges  and  drawn  by  the  troops. 

They  marched  over  the  k'^.  of  Lake  Champlain  down 
to  Ticonderoga,  where  they  rested  a  week  and  con- 
structed three  hundred  scaling-ladders.  Three  days' 
further  march  up  Lake  George  brought  them  to  the 
English  fort.  The  weak  point  of  the  expedition  was  its 
leader,  for  Vaudreuil,  who  was  himself  a  Canadian,  had 
the  greatest  jealousy  of  the  French  officers,  and  had 
intrusted  the  command  of  the  expedition  to  his  brother 
Rigaud. 

The  fire  did  no  damage,  as  the  garrison  lay  sheltered 
behind  their  intrenchments,  replying  occasionally  when- 
ever  the  enemy  mustered  in  force  as  if  with  an  intention 
of  attacking. 

"  I  don't  think  they  mean  business  this  time,  captain," 
Nat  said  in  a  tone  of  disgust.  "  Why,  there  are  enough 
of  them  to  eat  us  if  they  could  but  make  up  their  minds 
to  come  on.  They  don't  suppose  they  are  going  to  take 
William  Henry  by  blazing  away  at  it  half  a  mile  oflf! " 

"  Perhaps  they  are  going  to  make  a  night  attack," 
James  said.  "  They  will  have  learned  all  about  the  posi- 
tion of  our  works." 

"  May  be  so,"  Nat  replied ;  "  but  I  don't  think  so. 
When  chaps  don't  attack  at  once,  when  there  are  four 
or  five  to  one,  I  reckon  that  they  aint  likely  to  attack 
9X  ^\l    They  me^nt  to  surprise  WS;  ^^nd  tbey  haven't,  and 


\ 


\ 


•\ 


\ 


AM  ABORTIVE  ATTACK. 


261 


ft  seems  lo  me  as  it  has  taken  all  the  heart  out  of 
them." 

As  evening  approached  the  fire  ceased.  At  nightfall 
strong  guards  were  placed  around  the  intrenchments, 
and  the  troops  retired  to  their  quarters  ready  to  turn 
out  at  a  minute's  notice.  About  midnight  they  were 
called  out;  there  was  again  a  sound  on  the  lake.  The 
cannon  at  once  opened,  and  as  before  all  was  silent 
again. 

"  Look,  Walsham,  look ! "  Edwards  exclaimed.  "  They 
have  set  fire  to  the  sloops." 

As  he  spoke  a  tongue  of  fiame  started  up  from  one.  of 
the  two  vessels  lying  in  the  ice  close  to  the  shore,  and 
almost  simultaneously  flames  shot  up  from  among  the 
boats  drawn  up  on  the  beach. 

"  That's  redskin  work!  "  Nat  exclaimed. 

"  Come  lads,"  James  cried,  leaping  down  from  the  low 
earthwork  into  the  ditch.  "  Let  us  save  the  boats  if  we 
can."  The  scouts  followed  him  and  ran  down  to  the 
shore;  but  the  Indians  had  done  their  work  well.  The 
two  sloops  and  manj'^  of  the  boats  were  well  alight,  and 
it  was  evident  at  once  that  long  before  a  hole  could  be 
broken  through  the  ice,  and  buckets  brought  from  the 
fort,  they  would  be  beyond  all  hopes  of  saving  them. 
The  French,  too,  opened  fire  from  the  woods  bordering 
the  lake,  and  as  the  light  of  the  flames  exposed  his  men 
to  the  enemy's  marksmen  James  at  once  called  them 
back  to  the  fort,  and  the  sloops  and  boats  burned  them- 
selves out.  At  noon  next  day  the  French  filed  out  from 
the  woods  on  to  the  ice  at  a  distance  of  over  a  mile. 

"What  now!"  Edwards  exclaimed.  "They  surely 
don't  mean  to  be  fools  enough  to  march  across  the  ice 
to  attack  us  in  broad  daylight." 

"  It  looks  to  me,"  James  replied,  "  as  if  they  wanted 
to  make  a  full  show  of  their  force.  See,  there  is  a  white 
flag,  and  a  party  are  coming  forward." 

An  officer  and  several  men  advanced  toward  the  fort, 
and  Major  Eyre  sent  out  one  of  his  officers  with  an  equal 
number  of  men  to  meet  them.    There  was  a  short  parlejr 


i 


4 

<- 


:i^ 


!• 


i 


y 


w 


yTiiT-^"/  :•  ■)!'  Bi^r" 


^P>. 


doi 


WITH  WOLFft  IN  CAtJADA. 


when  the  parties  came  together,  and  then  the  Fi«nch 
officer  advanced  toward  the  fort  with  the  English,  his 
followers  remaining  on  the  ice. 

On  nearing  the  fort  the  French  officer,  Le  Mercier, 
chief  of  the  Canadian  artillery,  was  blindfolded  and  led 
to  the  room  where  Major  Eyre,  with  all  the  British  offi- 
cers, was  awaiting  him.  The  handkerchief  was  then 
removed  from  his  eyes,  and  he  announced  to  the  com- 
mandant that  he  was  the  bearer  of  a  message  from  the 
officer  commanding  the  French  force,  who,  being  desir- 
ous of  avoiding  an  effusion  of  blood,  begged  the  English 
commander  to  abstain  from  resistance,  which,  against 
a  force  so  superior  to  his  own,  could  but  be  useless. 
He  offered  the  most  favorable  terms  if  he  would  sur- 
render the  place  peaceably,  but  said  that  if  he  were 
driven  to  make  an  assault  his  Indian  allies  would  unques- 
tionably massacre  the  whole  garrison. 

Major  Eyre  quietly  replied  that  he  intended  to  defend 
himself  to  the  utmost. 

The  envoy  was  again  blindfolded.  When  he  rejoined 
the  French  force  tlie  latter  at  once  advanced  as  if  to 
attack  the  place,  but  soon  halted,  and  leaving  the  ice, 
opened  a  fusilade  from  the  border  of  the  woods,  which 
they  kept  up  for  some  hours,  the  garrison  contemptu- 
ously abstaining  from  any  reply.  At  night  the  French 
were  heard  advancing  again,  the  sound  coming  from  all 
sides.  The  garrison  stood  to  their  arms,  believing  that 
this  time  the  real  attack  was  about  to  be  made. 

Nearer  and  nearer  came  the  sound,  and  the  garrison, 
who  could  see  nothing  in  the  pitchy  darkness,  fired 
wherever  they  could  hear  a  sound.    Presently  a  bright 
light  burst  up;  the  redskins,  provided  with  fagots  of^ 
resinous  sticks,  had  crept  up  toward  some  buildings,' 
consisting  of  several  store-houses,  a  hospital,  and  saw- 
mill, and  the  huts  and  tents  of  the  rangers,  and  having 
placed  their  torches  against  them  set  them  on  fire  and 
instantly  retreated.    The  garrison  could  do  nothing  to 
save  the  buildings,  as  their  efforts  in  the  absence  of  water . 
must  be  unavailing,  and  they  would  have  been  shot 


T 


^^ 


^ffm 


wppi 


AM  AdOftTtVfC  ATtkClt, 


Idj 


down  by  the  foe  lying  beyond  the  circle  of  light.  They 
therefore  remained  lying  behind  the  intrenchment,  firing 
wherever  they  heard  the  slightest  sound,  and  momen- 
tarily expecting  an  attack;  but  morning  came  without 
the  French  advancing,  and  the  garrison  were  then  able 
to  give  fiieir  whole  attention  to  saving  the  buildings  in 
the  fort. 

Some  great  wood-stacks  had  now  ignited,  and  the 
burning  embers  fell  thickly  on  the  huts,  and  for  some 
hours  it  was  only  by  the  greatest  exertions  that  the 
troops  were  able  to  save  the  buildings  from  destruction. 
Every  moment  they  expected  to  be  attacked,  for  had  the 
French  advanced  the  huts  must  have  been  left  to  them- 
selves, in  which  case  the  garrison  would  have  found 
themselves  shelterless,  and  all  their  provisions  and  stores 
would  have  been  consumed;  but  before  noon  the  danger 
was  over,  for  not  only  had  the  fires  begun  to  burn  low 
but  a  heavy  snow-storm  set  in.    All  day  it  continued. 

"  Now  v/ould  be  the  time  for  them  to  attack,"  James 
Walsham  said  to  his  lieutenant ;  "  we  can  scarce  see 
twenty  yards  away." 

"  Now  is  their  chance,"  Edwards  agreed;  "  but  I  don't 
believe  in  their  attacking.  T  can't  think  who  they  have 
got  in  command.  He  ought  to  be  shot,  a  man  with 
such  a  force  as  he  has  hanging  about  here  for  four  days 
when  he  could  have  carried  the  place  with  a  rush  any 
moment." 

"  No,  I  don't  think  they  will  attack,"  James  replied. 
"  Men  who  will  stop  to  light  a  fire  to  warm  themselves 
within  sight  of  an  enemy's  fort  they  want  to  surprise  are 
not  likely  to  venture  out  of  the  shelter  of  their  blankets 
in  such  a  snow  as  this." 

All  day  and  all  night  the  snow  came  down  till  the 
ground  was  covered  to  a  depth  of  over  three  feet. 
Early  on  Tuesday  morning  twenty  volunteers  of  the 
F-£nch  regulars  made  a  bold  attempt  to  burn  a  sloop 
building  on  the  stocks,  with  several  storehouses  and 
other  structures  near  the  water,  and  some  hundreds  of 
boats  and  canoes  which  were  ranged  near  them.    They 


tl 


il 


|: 


■  1 


mmm 


S04 


WITH  WOLFtt  IN  CANADA. 


succeeded  in  firing  the  sloop  and  some  buildings,  but 
James  with  his  scouts  sallied  out  and  forced  them  to 
retreat  with  the  loss  of  five  of  their  number,  and  by  pull- 
ing down  some  of  the  huts  prevented  the  fire  spreading. 

Next  morning  the  sun  rose  brightly  and  the  white 
sheet  of  the  lake  was  dotted  with  the  French  in  full 
retreat  for  Canada.  Their  total  loss  had  been  eleven 
killed  and  wounded,  while  on  the  English  side  seven  men 
had  been  wounded,  all  slightly.  Never  was  a  worse  con- 
ducted or  more  futile  expedition. 

After  this  affair  the  time  passed  slowly  at  Fort  William 
Henry.  Until  the  sun  gained  strength  enough  to  melt 
the  thick  white  covering  of  the  earth  James  practiced 
his  men  in  the  use  of  snow-shoes,  and  as  soon  as  spring 
had  fairly  commenced  resumed  the  work  of  scouting. 
This  was  done  only  as  an  exercise,  for  there  was  no  fear 
that  after  such  a  humiliating  failure  the  French  would 
for  some  time  to  come  attempt  another  expedition 
against  the  fort. 

In  the  autumn  of  1756  General  Montcalm  had  come 
out  from  France  to  take  the  command  of  the  French 
troops.  Few  of  the  superior  officers  of  the  French  army 
cared  to  take  the  command  in  a  country  where  the  work 
was  hard  and  rough  and  little  glory  was  to  be  obtained. 
Therefore  the  minister  of  war  was  able  for  once  to 
choose  an  officer  fitted  for  the  post,  instead  of  being 
obliged,  as  usual,  to  fill  up  the  appointment  by  a  court 
favorite. 

The  Marquis  of  Montcalm  was  bom  at  the  chateau 
of  Candiac,  near  Nimes,  on  the  29th  of  February,  171 2. 
At  the  age  of  fifteen,  up  to  which  time  he  had  studied 
hard,  he  entered  the  army.  Two  years  later  he  became 
a  captain,  and  was  first  under  fire  at  the  siege  of  Philips- 
bourg.  In  1736  he  married  Mile.  Du  Boulay,  who 
brought  him  influential  connections  and  some  property. 
In  1 741  Montcalm  took  part  in  the  campaign  in  Bo- 
hemia. Two  years  later  he  was  made  colonel,  and 
passed  unharmed  through  the  severe  campaign  of  1744. 

In  the  following  year  he  fought  in  the  campaign  in 


"Iff 


■■H 


/ 


AN  ABORTIVE   ATTACK. 


fOf 


Italy,  and  in  1746  was  wounded  at  the  disastrous  action 
at  Piacenza,  where  he  twice  rallied  his  regiment,  received 
five  saber  cuts,  and  was  made  prisoner.  He  was  soon 
liberated  on  parole,  and  was  promoted  in  the  following 
year  to  the  rank  of  brigadier-general,  and  being 
exchanged  for  an  officer  of  similar  rank,  rejoined  the 
army,  and  was  again  wounded  by  a  musket  shot. 
Shortly  afterward  the  peace  of  Aix-la-Chapelle  was 
signed,  and  Montcalm  remained  living  quietly  with  his 
family,  to  whom  he  was  tenderly  attached,  until  informed 
by  the  minister  of  war  that  he  had  selected  him  to  com- 
mand the  troops  in  North  America  with  the  rank  of 
major-general. 

The  Chevalier  de  Levis  was  appointed  second  in  com- 
mand. No  sooner  did  Montcalm  arrive  in  America  than 
difficulties  arose  between  him  and  the  Marquis  de  Vaud- 
reuil,  the  governor,  who  had  hoped  to  have  himself 
received  the  appointment  of  commander  of  the  French 
forces,  and  who,  in  virtue  of  his  office,  commanded  the 
Canadian  militia. 

From  first  to  last  this  man  opposed  and  thwarted 
Montcalm,  doing  all  in  his  power  to  injure  him  by  re- 
ports to  France  in  his  disfavor.  The  misfortunes  which 
befell  France  during  the  war  were  in  no  slight  degree 
due  to  this  divided  authority  and  to  the  obstacles  thrown 
in  the  way  of  Montcalm  by  the  governor.  Montcalm's 
first  blow  against  the  English  was  struck  in  August, 
1756,  six  months  before  the  attack  on  Fort  William 
Henry,  which  had  been  arranged  by  Vaudreuil. 

Three  battalions  of  regular  troops,  with  700  Cana- 
dians and  250  Indians,  with  a  strong  force  of  artillery, 
were  quietly  concentrated  at  Fort  Frontenac,  and  were 
intended  for  an  attack  upon  the  important  English  post 
of  Oswego.  Fighting  had  been  going  on  in  this  neigh- 
borhood for  some  time,  and  it  was  from  Oswego  that 
Shirley  had  intended  to  act  against  Niagara  and  Fronte- 
nac. That  enterprise  had  fallen  through  owing  to  Shir- 
ley having  been  deprived  of  the  command;  but  a  sharp 
fight  bad  taken  place  between  Colonel  Bra4street  and 


\l 


70$ 


WITH  WOLFE  IN  CANADA. 


his  armed  boatmen  and  iioo  French,  who  were  beaten 
off. 

Oswego  was  a  place  of  extreme  importance.  It  was 
the  only  English  post  on  Ontario,  situated  as  it  was 
toward  the  southwest  corner  of  the  lake.  So  long  as  it 
remained  in  their  possession  it  was  a  standing  menace 
against  the  whole  line  of  communications  of  the  French 
with  the  south.  Owing  to  gross  neglect  the  fort  had 
never  been  placed  in  a  really  defensive  condition.  The 
garrison  was  small  and  crippled  with  the  fever,  which 
had  carried  oflf  great  numbers  of  them.  The  remainder 
were  ill-fed  and  discontented. 

On  the  1 2th  of  August  the  Earl  of  Loudon  sent  Colo- 
nel Webb  with  the  44th  Regiment  and  some  of  Brad- 
street's  boatmen  to  reinforce  Oswego.  They  should 
have  started  a  month  before,  and  had  they  done  so  would 
have  been  in  time;  but  confusion  and  misunderstanding 
had  arisen  from  a  change  in  command.  Webb  had 
scarcely  made  half  his  march  when  tidings  of  the  dis- 
aster met  him,  and  he  at  once  fell  back  with  the  greatest 
precipitation. 

At  midnight  on  the  loth  Montcalm  had  Irjided  his 
force  within  half  a  league  of  the  first  English  fort.  Four 
cannon  were  at  once  landed  and  a  battery  thrown  up, 
and  so  careless  of  danger  were  the  garrison  that  it  was 
not  till  the  morning  that  the  invaders  were  discovered. 
Two  armed  vessels  at  once  sailed  down  to  cannonade 
them;  but  their  light  guns  were  no  match  for  the  heavy 
artillery  of  the  French,  and  they  were  forced  to  retire. 
The  attack  was  commenced  without  delay.  The  In- 
dians and  Canadians  swarming  in  the  forest  round  the 
fort  kept  up  a  hot  fire  upon  it. 

By  nightfall  the  first  parallel  was  marked  out  at  180 
yards  from  the  rampart.  Fort  Ontario,  considered  the 
strongest  of  the  three  forts  at  Oswego,  stood  on  a  high 
plateau  on  the  right  side  of  the  river  where  it  entered  the 
lake.  It  was  in  the  shape  of  a  star,  and  formed  of  a  pali- 
sade of  trunks  of  trees  set  upright  in  the  ground,  hewn 
flat  on  both  sides,  and  closely  fitted  together — an  excel- 


wn^ 


AN  ABORTIVE  ATTACK. 


207 


lent  defense  against  musketry,  but  worthless  against 
artillery.  The  garrison  of  the  fort,  370  in  number,  had 
eight  small  cannon  and  a  mortar,  with  which  all  next 
day  they  kept  up  a  brisk  fire  against  the  battery  which 
the  French  were  throwing  up  and  arming  with  twenty- 
six  pieces  of  heavy  artillery.  Colonel  Mercer,  the  com- 
mandant of  Oswego,  saw  at  once  that  the  French 
artillery  would,  as  soon  as  they  opened  fire,  blow  the 
stockade  into  pieces,  and  thinking  it  better  to  lose  the 
fort  alone  than  the  fort  and  its  garrison,  he  sent  boats 
across  the  river  after  nightfall,  and  the  garrison  having 
spiked  their  guns  and  thrown  their  ammunition  into  the 
well,  crossed  the  river  unperceived  by  the  French. 

But  Oswego  was  in  no  position  for  defense.  Fort 
Pepperell  stood  on  the  mouth  of  the  river  facing  Fort 
Ontr^rio.  Toward  the  west  and  south  th^  place  was  pro- 
tected by  an  outer  line  of  earthworks  mounted  with  can- 
non, but  the  side  facing  the  river  was  wholly  exposed, 
in  the  belief  that  Fort  Ontario  would  prevent  any  attack 
in  this  direction. 

Montcalm  lost  no  time.  The  next  evening  his  whole 
force  set  to  work  throwing  up  a  battery  at  the  edge  of 
the  rising  ground  on  which  Fort  Ontario  stood,  and  by 
daybreak  twenty  Hea^^  guns  were  in  position  and  at 
once  opened  fire.  The  grape  and  round  shot  swept  the 
English  position,  smashing  down  the  mud-built  walls, 
crashing  through  the  stockades,  and  carrying  destruc- 
tion among  the  troops.  The  latter  made  a  shelter  of 
pork-barrels,  three  high  and  three  deep,  and  planted 
cannon  behind  them,  and  returned  the  enemy's  fire; 
but  the  Canadians  and  Indians  had  crossed  the  river 
by  a  ford  two  miles  up,  and  soon  opened  fire  from  all 
sides. 

Colonel  Mercer,  who  had  bravely  led  his  men  and 
inspired  them  by  his  example,  was  cut  in  two  by  a  can- 
non-shot, and  the  garrison  were  seized  with  despair.  A 
council  of  officers  was  held,  and  the  garrison  surren- 
dered as  prisoners  of  war  io  the  number  of  1600, 
which  included  skk,  the  sailors  belonging  to  the  ship- 


s' 


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WITH   WOLFE   IN   CANADA. 


ping,  laborers,  and  upward  of  a  hundred  women. 
Montcalm  had  the  greatest  difficulty  in  preventing  the 
Indians,  by  means  of  threats,  promises,  and  presents, 
from  massacring  the  prisoners.  Oswego  was  burned  to 
the  ground,  the  forts  and  vessels  on  the  stocks  de- 
stroyed, and  the  place  having  been  made  a  desert,  the 
army  returned  with  their  prisoners  and  spoil  to 
Montreal. 

The  loss  of  Oswego  had  inflicted  a  very  severe  blow 
to  the  influence  and  prestige  of  England  among  the 
Indians  of  the  lake  districts,  but  this  was  partly  restored 
by  the  failure  of  the  French  expedition  against  William 
Henry  early  in  the  following  spring.  The  expedition 
against  Louisbourg,  to  strengthen  which  the  western 
frontier  had  been  denuded  of  troops,  proved  a  failure. 
A  great  delay  had  taken  plac6  at  home  in  consequence 
of  ministerial  changes,  and  it  was  not  until  the  5th  of 
May  that  fifteen  ships  of  the  line  and  three  frigates  under 
Admiral  Holbourne,  with  500  troops  on  board,  sailed 
from  England  for  Halifax,  where  Loudon  was  to  meet 
him  with  the  forces  from  the  colony.  But  while  the 
English  fleet  had  been  delaying,  the  French  government 
had  obtained  information  of  its  destination,  and  had 
sent  three  French  squadrons  across  the  Atlantic  to 
Louisbourg.  It  was  the  loth  of  July  before  the  united 
English  force  assembled  at  Halifax,  and  there  fresh  de- 
lays arose.  The  troops,  nearly  12,000  in  number,  wer^i 
landed,  and  weeks  were  spent  in  idle  drill. 

At  the  beginning  of  August  the  forces  were  again 
embarked,  when  a  sloop  came  in  from  Newfoundland 
bringing  letters  which  had  been  captured  on  board  a 
French  ship.  From  these  it  appeared  that  there  were 
twenty-two  ships  of  the  line  besides  several  frigates  in 
the  harbor  of  Louisbourg,  and  that  7000  troops  were  in 
garrison  in  what  was  by  far  the  strongest  fortress  on 
the  continent. 

Success  was  now  impossible,  and  the  enterprise  was 
abandoned.  Loudon  with  his  troops  sailed  back  to  New 
Yprki  and  Admiral  Holbourne,  who  had  been  joined  b)r 


AN   ABORTIVE  ATTAClC. 


SO9 


four  additional  -ships,  sailed  for  Louisbourg  in  hopes 
that  the  French  fleet  would  come  out  and  fight  him. 

He  cruised  for  some  time  off  the  port,  but  Lamotte, 
the  French  admiral,  v^nld  not  come  out.  In  Septem- 
ber a  tremendous  gale  burst  upon  the  British  fleet:  one 
ship  was  dashed  on  the  rocks  a  short  distance  from 
Louisbourg,  and  only  a  sudden  shift  of  the  wind  saved 
the  rest  from  a  total  destruction.  Nine  were  dis- 
masted, and  others  threw  their  cannon  into  the  sea. 
Had  Lamoltc  sailed  out  on  the  following  day  the  Eng- 
lish fleet  was  at  his  mercy.  Fortunately  he  did  not  do 
"so,  and  Holbourne  returned  to  England. 

The  French  in  Canada  were  aware  that  Loudon  had 
gathered  all  his  troops  at  New  York,  and  was  preparing 
for  an  expedition  which  was  to  be  aided  by  a  fleet  from 
England;  but  thinking  it  probable  that  it  was  directed 
against  Quebec,  the  most  vital  point  in  Canada,  since 
its  occupation  by  the  English  would  entirely  cut  the 
colony  off  from  France,  Montcalm  was  obliged  to  keep 
his  forces  in  hand  near  that  town,  and  was  unable  to 
take  advantage  of  the  unprotected  state  in  which  Loudon 
had  left  the  frontier  of  the  colonies. 

As  soon,  however,  as,  by  dispatch  received  from 
France,  and  by  the  statements  of  prisoners  captured  by 
the  Indians  on  the  frontier,  Montcalm  learned  that  the 
expedition  which  had  just  left  New  York  was  destined 
for  Louisbourg,  he  was  at  liberty  to  utilize  his  army  for 
the  invasion  of  the  defenseless  colonies,  and  he  deter- 
mined to  commence  the  campaign  by  the  capture  of  Fort 
William  Henry. 

Jamas  Walsham,  with  his  company  of  Royal  Scouts, 
had  spent  the  spring  at  Foil  William  Henry.  Loudon 
had  at  first  sent  an  order  for  the  corps  to  be  broken  up, 
and  the  men  to  rejoin  their  respective  regiments  and  to 
accompany  them  on  the  expedition;  but  the  earnest 
representations  of  Colonel  Monro,  of  the  35th  Regiment, 
who  was  now  in  command,  of  the  total  inadequacy  of 
the  garrison  to  defend  itself  should  a  serious  attack  be 
made  from  Ticonderoga,  and  of  the  great  value  to  him 


A'; 


n 


ii: 


f 


«- 


mm 


^16 


WITH  WOLf-E  IN  CAkADA. 


of  the  corps  under  Captain  Walsham,  which  was  now 
thoroughly  trained  in  forest-fighting,  induced  him  to 
countermand  the  order. 

James  was  glad  that  he  was  iiot  obliged  to  rejoin  his 
regiment.  The  independent  command  was  a  pleasant 
one,  and  although  life  at  Fort  Willijam  Henry  had,  since 
the  French  repulse,  been  an  uneventful  one,  there  was 
plenty  of  fishing  in  the  lake  and  shooting  in  the  woods 
to  vary  the  monotony  of  drill. 

He  axid  Edwards  were  now  both  expert  canoemen, 
and  often  ventured  far  down  the  lake,  taking  with  them, 
one  or  other  of  the  scouts,  and  keeping  a  sharp  lookout 
among  the  woods  on  either  side  for  signs  of  the  enemy. 
Once  or  twice  they  were  chased  by  Indian  canoes,  but 
always  succeeded  in  distancing  them. 

"  The  news  has  just  come  in  that  the  expedition  has 
sailed,"  James  said,  as  he  one  day,  toward  the  end  of 
July,  entered  the  hut  which  he  now  occupied  with 
Edwards,  for  the  corps  had  long  since  been  put  under 
huts,  these  being  better  suited  for  the  hot  season  than 
tents. 

"  It  is  rather  a  nuisance,"  Edwards  grumbled,  "  being 
kept  here  instead  of  going  and  taking  a  share  in  a  big 
siege." 

"  Don't  be  impatient,  Edwards,"  James  replied.  "  If 
I  am  not  greatly  mistaken  you  will  have  quite  as  much 
fighting  as  you  want  here  before  long.  Montcalm's 
sudden  attack  on  Oswego  last  autumn  showed  that  he  is 
an  enterprising  general,  and  I  have  no  doubt  that  as  soon 
as  he  learns  that  Loudon's  expedition  is  net  intended 
for  Quebec  he  will  be  beating  us  up  on  the  frontier  with 
a  vengeance." 

Montcalm,  indeed,  had  already  prepared  to  strike  a 
blow.  A  thousand  Indians,  lured  by  the  prospect  of 
gifts,  scalps,  and  plunder,  had  come  in  from  the  west 
and  north,  and  were  encamped  near  Montreal;  and 
besides  these  there  were  the  Mission  Indians,  and  those 
of  the  Five  Nations  who  adhered  to  France.  Early  in 
July  the  movement  began.    Day  after  day  fleets  of  boats 


AN  ABORTIVE  ATTACK. 


21 1 


and  canoes  rowed  up  Lake  Champlain,  and  toward  the 
end  of  the  month  the  whole  force  was  gi  thered  at 
Ticonderoga.  Here  were  now  collected  80^0  men,  of 
whom  2000  were  Indians,  representing  forty-one  tribes 
and  sub-tribes.  Among  them  were  Iroquois,  Huroris, 
Nipissings,  Abenakis,  Algonkins,  Micmacs,  and  Male- 
cites;  these  were  all  nominal  Christians,  and  counted 
800  warriors.  With  them  were  the  Western  Indians: 
Ojibwas,  Mississagas,  Pottawattamies,  Menomonies, 
Sacs,  Foxes,  Winnebagoes,  Miamis,  and  lowas.  These 
were  still  unconverted. 

The  French  held  these  savage  allies  in  abhorrence. 
Their  drunkenness,  their  turbulence,  their  contempt  of 
all  orders,  their  cruelty  to  their  captives,  and  their  canni- 
balism disgusted  and  shocked  Montcalm  and  his  officers ; 
but  they  were  powerless  to  restrain  them,  for  without 
them  as  scouts,  guides,  and  eyes  in  the  forests,  the 
French  could  have  done  nothing,  and  at  the  slightest 
remonstrance  the  Indians  were  ready  to  take  offense  and 
to  march  away  to  their  distant  homes. 

The  letters  of  Montcalm  and  his  officers  to  their 
friends  were  full  of  disgust  at  the  doings  of  their  savage 
allies,  and  of  regret  that  they  could  not  dispense  with 
their  services  or  restrain  their  ferocity.  Vaudreuil  and 
the  Canadians,  on  the  other  hand,  accustomed  to  the 
traditions  of  savage  warfare,  made  no  attempt  whatever 
to  check  the  ferocity  of  the  Indians,  and  were  indeed  the 
instigators  of  the  raids  which  the  savages  made  upon 
the  unprotected  villages  and  settlements  on  the  frontier, 
offered  rewards  for  scalps,  and  wrote  and  talked  gleefully 
of  the  horrible  atrocities  committed  upon  the  colonists. 


! 


^    ,  ^^' 


Ni' 


s 
:." 

i 

», . 

s,   '    . 


;' 


if     'i\ 
Vf 


liM 


■fi| 


i:^ 


ill 


319 


WITH   WOLFE  IN   CANADA. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 


SCOUTING  ON   LAKE   CHAMPLAIN. 


One  morning  Colonel  Monro  sent  for  James.  "  Cap- 
tain Walsham,"  he  said,  "  there  are  rumors  that  the 
French  are  gathering  at  Crown  Point  in  considerable 
force.  Captain  Rogers  is  still  disabled  by  his  wound, 
and  his  band  have  suffered  so  heavily  in  their  last  affair 
with  the  enemy  that  for  the  time  they  are  out  of  action. 
It  is  important  that  I  should  learn  the  truth  of  these 
rumors,  for  if  they  be  true  I  must  communicate  at  once 
to  the  general,  in  order  that  he  may  get  together  a  suffi- 
cient force  to  relieve  us  if  Montcalm  comes  down 
and  lays  siege  to  the  fort.  Will  you  undertake  the 
business?" 

"  I  will  do  my  best,  sir,"  James  replied.  "  Do  you 
propose  that  I  should  take  all  my  company,  or  only  a 
picked  party?" 

"  That  I  will  leave  to  you.  Captain  Walsham.  I  want 
trustworthy  news,  and  how  you  obtain  it  for  me  matters 
little." 

"Then  I  will  take  only  a  small  party,"  James  said. 
"  Fifty  men  would  be  useless  for  purposes  of  fighting 
if  the  enemy  are  numerous,  while  with  such  a  number 
it  would  be  hopeless  to  attempt  to  escape  detection  by 
the  Indians.  The  fewer  the  better  for  such  an  enter- 
prise." 

On  leaving  the  commandant  James  at  once  summoned 
the  two  hunters  to  his  hut,  and  told  them  the  mission  he 
had  received. 

"  I  am  ready,  captain,  that  is  if  you  and  I  and  Jona- 
than makes  up  the  party.  As  to  going  trapesing  about 
round  Crown  Point  with  fifty  soldiers,  the  thing  aint  to 
be  thought  of.  We  should  be  there  no  more  than  half 
an  hour  before  the  Indians  would  know  of  it,  and  we 
should  have  no  show  either  for  fighting  or  running 
away.    No,  captain,  the  lads  are  good  enough  for  scout- 


scoi/xmo  dN  tAtit  champlain. 


iij 


'li*' 


ing  about  round  camp  here;  but  as  for  an  expedition  of 
that  sort,  we  might  as  well  start  with  a  drove  of  swine." 

"That  is  just  what  I  thought,  Nat;  one  canoe  may- 
escape  even  the  eyes  of  the  Indians,  but  a  dozen  would 
have  no  chance  of  doing  so." 

"We  might  get  ro  the  lakes,"  the  scout  said;  "but 
the  mischief  would  be  in  the  woods.  No,  it  never  would 
do,  captain.  If  we  goes  it  must  be  the  three  of  us  and 
no  more.    When  do  you  think  of  starting?  " 

"  The  sooner  the  better,  Nat." 

"  Very  well,  capta'n,  I  will  go  and  get  some  grub 
ready,  and  as  soon  as  it  gets  dusk  we  will  get  the  canoe 
into  the  water." 

"  I  suppose  you  can't  take  me  with  you?  "  Lif;utenant 
Edwards  said,  when  James  told  him  of  the  duty  he  had 
been  requested  to  perform.     "  It  is  dismal  here." 

"  Not  exactly,"  James  laughed.  "  What  would  be- 
come of  the  company  if  it  were  to  lose  its  two  officers  and 
its  two  scouts  at  a  blow!  No,  Edwards,  you  will  com- 
mand during  my  absence,  and  I  think  you  will  soon  have 
more  lively  times  here,  for  if  it  be  true  that  Montcalm 
will  himself  command  the  troops  coming  against  us  it 
w.ill  be  a  different  business  altogether  from  the  last. 
And  now  leave  me  alone  for  an  hour.  I  have  some 
letters  to  write  before  I  start.  They  will  be  for  you  to 
send  off  in  case  we  don't  come  back  again.  Don't  look 
serious.  I  have  no  intention  of  falling  into  the  hands  of 
Montcalm's  savages.  Still  there  is  no  doubt  the  expedi- 
tion is  a  risky  one,  and  it  is  just  as  well  to  be  prepared." 

Just  as  the  sun  was  setting  Nat  came  into  the  officers* 
hut. 

"  Everything  is  ready,  captain,"  he  said.  "  I  hope  you 
have  made  a  good  dinner,  for  it's  the  last  hot  meal  you 
will  eat  till  you  get  back.  I  have  cooked  enough  meat 
for  the  next  four  days,  and  that's  about  as  long  as  it  will 
keep  good;  after  that  dried  deer's  flesh  will  have  to  do 
for  us.  I  expect,  I  tell  you,  we  shall  have  to  be  pretty 
spry  this  time.  If  they  are  coming  down  in  force  'ley 
are  sure  to  send  a  lot  of  their  Indians  through  the  woods 


f'i  i 


Ki 


I  i 


.': 


'i 


V 


■    i? 


ii 


«! 


^«pp 


mi 


^"^n^sw^ 


f»i4 


mm  WOtPE  IM  CAKADA. 


on  each  side  of  the  lake,  and  the  water  will  be  swarmmf^ 
with  their  canoes.  Jonathan  and  I  have  been  talking  it 
over  and  trying  to  settle  which  would  be  the  safest,  to 
foot  i^all  the  way  or  to  go  by  water.  We  concluded  as 
there  aint  much  difference,  and  the  canoe  will  be  the 
quickest  and  easiest,  so  we  had  best  keep  to  that  plan." 

"  I  would  certainly  rather  go  that  way,  Nat,  if  you 
think  that  the  danger  is  no  greater." 

"No,  I  don't  think  there's  much  difference,  captain; 
at  any  rate  we  may  as  well  go  that  way;  like  enough  we 
shall  have  to  tramp  back  by  the  woods." 

Half  an  hour  later  the  canoe  put  out.  Although  they 
had  little  fear  that  any  of  the  Indian  canoes  would  be 
so  far  up  Lake  George,  there  was  scarce  a  word  spoken 
in  the  boat  for  some  hours  after  starting.  Jonathan  was 
always  silent,  and  Nat,  although  talkative  enough  when 
in  camp,  was  a  man  of  few  words  when  once  embarked 
upon  a  serious  expedition.  As  for  James,  he  had  little 
inclination  for  conversation. 

The  enterprise  was,  he  knew,  one  of  extreme  danger. 
Had  it  been  only  a  French  force  he  was  about  to  recon- 
noiter,  or  even  one  composed  of  French  and  Canadians 
together,  he  would  have  thought  little  of  it;  but  he  knew 
that  the  redskins  would  be  roaming  thickly  in  the  forest 
ahead  of  the  army,  and  much  as  he  relied  upon  the  skill 
and  ejcperience  of  the  two  scouts,  he  knew  it  would  be 
difficult  indeed  to  elude  their  watchful  eyes.  He 
thought  of  the  letters  he  had  been  writing,  and  wo!  - 
dered  whether  he  should  return  to  tear  them  up,  Oi 
whether  they  would  be  read  at  home. 

All  the  time  he  was  thinking  he  worked  his  paddle 
vigorously  and  at  a  high  rate  of  speed.  The  light  canoe 
bounded  noiselessly  over  the  water,  impelled  by  the  three 
vigorous  pairs  of  arms.  When  they  approached  the 
narrows  connecting  Lake  George  with  Lake  Champlain 
the  boat's  head  was  directed  toward  the  shore,  for  they 
could  not  get  past  Ticonderoga  before  daylight  broke, 
and  it  was  likely  that  a  good  watch  would  be  kept  in 
the  narrows, by  the  enemy,  and  it  would  be  dangerous 


>> 


8C0UttN6  ON  LAi^E  dUAiiPtAiU, 


its 


to  try  to  effect  a  landing  there.  The  canoe  was  carried 
ashore  and  hidden  in  some  bushes,  and  all  lay  down  to 
sleep. 

When  day  broke  Nat  rose  and  went  down  to  the  water 
to  see  that  in  landing  they  had  left  no  mark  upon  the 
shore  which  might  betray  them  to  the  eye  of  a  passing 
redskin. 

Goin|^  down  on  his  hands  and  knees  he  obliterated 
every  sign  of  their  footprints,  raised  the  herbage  upon 
which  they  had  trodden,  cut  short  to  the  ground  such 
stalks  as  they  had  bruised  or  broken  in  their  passage, 
and  then,  when  confident  that  all  was  safe,  he  returned 
to  his  camp.  When  it  again  became  dark  the  canoe  was 
carried  down  and  replaced  in  the  water,  and  they  con- 
tinued their  passage.  James  had,  at  Nat*s  request,  laid 
by  his  paddle. 

"  You  paddle  wonderfully  well,  captain.  I  don't  say 
you  don't;  but  for  a  delicate  piece  of  work  like  this,  one 
can't  be  too  careful.  It  aint  often  I  can  hear  your  paddle 
dip  in  the  water,  not  once  in  a  hundred  times,  but  then 
you  see  that  once  might  cost  us  our  scalps.  We  have  got 
to  go  along  as  silent  as  a  duck  swimming;  speed  aint 
no  object,  for  we  shall  be  miles  down  Lake  Champlain 
before  daylight;  but  if  the  French  know  their  business 
jthey  will  have  half  a  dozen  canoes  in  these  narrows  to 
prevent  us  scouting  on  Lake  Champlain,  and  you  see 
they  have  got  all  the  advantage  of  us,  'cause  they've  got 
just  to  lie  quiet  and  listen  and  we  have  got  to  row  on. 
As  far  as  seeing  goes  I  can  make  them  out  as  soon  as 
they  can  make  us  out;  but  they  can  hear  us  while  they 
won't  give  our  ears  a  chance.  I  tell  you,  captain,  I 
(lon't  expect  to  get  through  this  narrows  without  a 
chase  for  it;  if  it  comes  to  running,  of  course  you  v/ill 
take  your  paddle  again  ar^d  we  three  can  show  our  heels 
to  any  canoe  on  the  lakes,  perviding  of  course  as  it's  only 
a  starn  ohase;  if  there  are  three  or  four  of  them,  then  I 
don't  say  as  it  won't  be  a  close  thing." 

James  accordingly  lay  quietly  bick  in  the  boat  while 
his  companions  took  the  paddles.    It  was  not  necessary, 


4%> 


i 


i      \ 


f 


i 


I., 


-tU 


i 


JJj 


u6 


Witti  WotPE  i^  CAtiktA. 


for  him  either  to  look  out  or  to  listen,  for  he  knew  that 
his  companions'  eyes  and  ears  were  quicker  than  his 
own.  It  had  been  agreed  before  starting  that  they 
should  go  along  close  to  the  trees  on  the  left-hand  side 
of  the  passage,  because  the  keenest  lookout  would  be 
kept  on  the  right-hand  side,  as  that  would  naturally  be 
thosen  by  any  boat  going  up  as  being  farthest  from  the 
French  fort. 

"  There  is  no  fear  whatever  of  our  being  seen  from  the 
land,"  Nat  had  said;  "  the  redskins  would  know  that  so 
well  that  they  wouldn't  trouble  to  look  out.  It's  only 
canoes  we  have  got  to  be  afraid  of,  and  as  to  them  it's 
just  a  chance;  they  might  see  us  out  in  the  light  waters 
in  the  middle,  but  under  the  trees  they  can't  make  us 
out  thirty  yards  off.  They  will  be  lying  there  quiet  if 
they  are  there  at  all,  and  we  shall  either  get  past  them 
safe  or  we  shall  pretty  nigh  run  into  them.  It's  just 
chance,  and  there's  nothing  to  do  for  it  but  to  paddle  as 
noiselessly  as  fish  and  trust  to  our  luck.'* 

Having  crossed  the  lake  to  the  left  shore  they  entered 
the  narrows ;  the  paddles  were  dipped  so  quietly  into  the 
water  that  even  James  could  scarcely  hear  their  sound. 
Every  few  strokes  the  scouts  stopped  paddling  alto- 
gether and  sat  listening  intently.  They  were  keeping 
close  to  the  trees,  so  close  that  at  times  it  seemed  to 
James  that  by  stretching  out  his  hands  he  could  touch 
the  bushes. 

After  an  hour's  paddling  they  stopped  longer  than 
usual. 

"What  is  it?"  James  whispered  in  Jonathan's  ear, 
for  Nat  had  taken  the  bow  paddle. 

"  There  are  men  ahead,"  the  scout  whispered  back. 
"  We  heard  them  speak  just  now." 

Presently  the  boat  began  to  move  again,  but  so  quietly 
that  it  was  only  by  lookirilg  at  the  dark  masses  of  the 
boughs  that  stretched  out  overhead  that  James  knew  the 
boat  was  in  motion.  Jonathan  now  crouched  in  the 
bottom  of  the  boat  and  placed  his  hand  on  James' 
shoulder  as  a  sign  for  him  to  do  the  same.    The  time 


ROUTING  ON  LAKE  CHAMPLAIN. 


217 


seemed  endless  to  Jai.ies  as  he  lay  there;  it  was  too 
dark  under  the  trees  for  him  even  to  see  the  outline  of 
Nat's  figure.  The  boat  was,  he  was  sure,  moving,  for 
occasionally  as  he  lay  on  his  back  it  grew  lighter  over- 
head as  they  passed  under  openings  in  the  trees.  ^ 

Suddenly  his  heart  gave  a  bound  and  he  nearly 
started,  for  a  guttural  voice  spoke  seemingly  within  a 
few  feet  of  the  canoe.  He  placed  his  hand  on  his  rifle 
in  readiness  vo  sit  up  and  fire,  but  all  was  still  again.  It 
was  a  passing  remark  made  by  one  redskin  to  another 
in  a  canoe,  for  the  sound  was  to  his  right.  Another  long 
period  passed  and  then  Jonathan  sat  up  and  took  to  his 
paddle  again,  and  James  judged  that  the  danger  was 
over.  Raising  his  head  he  could  see  nothing  except  the 
vague  light  of  the  sheet  of  water  on  his  right ;  the  boat 
was  still  keeping  close  under  the  trees  on  the  left  shore 
of  the  lake,  and  he  lay  back  again  and  dozed  off  to  sleep. 
He  was  awoke  by  Jonathan  touching  his  foot. 

"  You  can  take  your  paddle  now,  captain."  He  sat  up 
at  once  and  looked  around.  They  were  far  out  now  on 
a  broad  sheet  of  water;  there  were  some  faint  lights  as 
of  fires  burning  low  high  up  to  the  left  behind  them, 
and  he  knew  that  they  had  already  passed  Ticonderoga 
and  were  making  their  way  along  Lake  Champlain. 
They  paddled  for  some  hours  and  then  landed  on  the 
right-hand  side  of  the  lake. 

"We  are  not  likely  to  be  disturbed  here,"  Nat  said  as 
they  lifted  the  canoe  from  the  water.  "The  Indians 
coming  down  from  Crown  Point  would  keep  on  the 
other  side  of  the  lake ;  they  will  all  make  for  Ticonderoga 
and  will  not  think  of  keeping  a  lookout  for  anyone  as 
far  down  the  lake  as  this." 

"That  was  a  close  shave  with  that  canoe,  Nat;  it 
startled  me  when  I  heard  the  voice  close  to  us.  They 
must  have  been  within  ten  yards  of  us." 

"About  that,"  Nat  said;  "it  was  lucky  they  spoke 
when  we  were  coming  along.  I  expect  they  had  been 
watching  for  some  nights  and  hadn't  much  idea  anyone 
would  come,  or  else  they  wouldn't  have  spoken.    As  it 


i  li 


\l 


^w 


WPP 


aiS 


WITH  WOLFE  IN  CANADA. 


was  it  was  easy  enough  to  pass  them  on  such  a  dark 
night.  Of  course  they  were  looking  outside  and  I  just 
kept  along  as  close  as  I  could  to  the  bushes,  only  just 
giving  a  light  stroke  now  and  then  to  take  her  along. 
Being  inside  them  I  got  a  sight  of  'em  some  distance 
away,  but  I  knew  they  couldn't  see  us,  sharp  as  their  eyes 
are ;  the  only  chance  was  their  hearing,  and  as  there  was 
no  noise  for  them  to  hear  I  felt  safe  enough  after  I  had 
once  caught  sight  of  'em  and  saw  they  were  lying  out 
at  the  edge  of  the  shadow.  If  they  had  been  close  under 
the  bushes,  as  they  ought  to  have  been,  we  should  have 
b'^en  in  for  a  fight,  for  we  mightn't  have  seen  each  other 
till  the  boats  touched.  Let  that  be  a  lesson  to  you, 
captain;  when  you  are  on  the  lookout  for  a  canoe  at 
night  lie  in  among  the  bushes ;  it  must  pass  between  you 
and  the  light  then,  and  as  they  can't  see  you,  you  can 
either  grapple  or  shoot,  just  as  you  like.  If  they  had 
seen  us  we  should  have  had  a  hot  time,  for  I  could 
hear  by  their  calls  right  along  the  other  side  that  they 
were  looking  out  for  us  in  earnest,  and  if  a  rifle  had  been 
fired  we  should  have  had  half  a  dozen  canoes  down  upon 
us  in  no  time,  and  like  enough  should  have  had  to  leave 
the  boat  and  take  to  the  woods." 

"  How  far  is  Crown  Point  away?  " 

"  Not  more  than  ten  miles,"  Nat  said ;  "  it  is  thirty 
miles  from  Ticonderoga.  It  lies  out  on  a  point  just 
where  Champlain  widens  out.  I  reckon  our  safest  way 
to-night  will  be  to  scout  along  this  side  till  we  are  well 
past  the  point,  then  to  paddle  out  well  across  the  lake 
and  come  up  again  and  land  to  the  left  of  Crown  Point. 
We  shall  then  be  in  the  track  of  boats  coming  up  from 
the  lower  end  of  the  lake,  and  can  paddle  boldly  on.  No 
orct  would  be  keeping  any  lookout  that  way.  Our  dan- 
ger won't  begin  until  we  get  ashore;  in  course  then  we 
must  act  according  to  sarcumstances." 

This  maneuver  was  carried  out.  They  started  as  soon 
as  it  became  dark,  and  after  paddling  along  the  eastern 
shore  for  nearly  three  hours  struck  out  into  the  wide 
lake  till  they  approached  the  opposite  shore;  and  then 


11  ^ 


SCOUTING   ON    LAKE   CHAMPLAIN. 


2x9 


heading  south  again  paddled  boldly  down  toward  the 
spot  where,  at  the  end  of  a  sweep  of  land  which  seemed 
to  close  in  the  lake,  stood  the  French  fort  of  Crown 
Point. 

Before  starting  the  two  scouts  had  stripped  to  the 
waist,  had  laid  aside  their  caps,  and,  fastening  a  strip  of 
leather  around  their  heads,  had  stuck  some  feathers  into 
it.     They  then  painted  their  faces  and  bodies. 

"  You  needn't  be  particular  about  th^  flourishes,  Jona- 
than; it's  only  t||^  redskin  outline  as  >'k:  wants  to  get; 
if  we  run  against  any  other  canoes  coming  up  the  lake, 
or  they  get  sight  of  us  as  we  near  the  shore,  ^o  as  we 
look  something  like  redskins,  that's  near  enough.  Of 
course  we  can  both  speak  Mohawk  well  enough  to  pass 
muster,  and  the  captain  will  lay  himself  down  in  the 
bottom.  Captain,  you  will  do  well  enough  for  a  Cana- 
dian when  we  have  once  landed.  There  aint  much  dif- 
ference between  a  hunter  one  side  of  the  frontier  and  the 
other,  but  it's  as  well  that  you  shouldn't  be  seen  till  we 
land.  The  less  questions  asked  the  better.  Our  Mo- 
hawk's good  enough  with  any  ot  the  other  tribes,  but 
it  wouldn't  pass  with  a  Mohawk  if  we  got  into  a  long- 
talk  with  him." 

Fortunately,  however,  these  precautions  proved  un- 
necessary; no  other  canoes  were  seen  on  the  lake,  and 
they  landed  unnoticed  at  a  spot  a  mile  and  a  half  to  the 
west  of  Crown  Point.  Before  starting  from  Fort  Wil- 
liam Henry  James  had  laid  aside  his  uniform  and  had 
dressed  himself  in  hunting-shirt  and  leggings  similar  to 
those  worn  by  the  scouts.  He  had  adopted  various  little 
details  in  which  the  Canadian  hunters  differed  from 
those  on  the  English  side'  of  the  frontier.  The  latter 
wore  their  hunting-shirts  loose  in  Indian  fashion,  while 
the  Canadians  generally  wore  a  leathern  belt  outside 
theirs  at  the  waist. 

His  cap  was  made  of  squirrel's  skins,  which  would 
pass  equally  well  on  both  sides  of  the  frontier.  The 
fire-bag,  in  which  tobacco,  tinder,  and  other  small 
matters  were  carried^  was  of  Indian  workmanship,  as  w*$ 


II 


'1 
'1  < 


1! 


i) 


-    ' 


' , ,    I' ' 


I    V 


\<  '  I- 


'^ 


320 


WITH   WOLFE   IN   CANADA. 


the  cord  of  his  powder-horn  and  bullet-pouch.  Alto- 
gether his  get-up  was  somewhat  brighter  and  more  pic- 
turesque than  that  of  English  scouts,  who,  as  a  rule, 
despised  anything  approaching  to  ornament.  He  knew 
that  by  disguising  himself  he  would  be  liable,  if  captured, 
to  be  shot  at  once  as  a  spy;  but  this  could  not  be  con- 
sidered, under  the  circumstances,  to  add  to  the  risk  he 
ran,  for  in  any  case  he  was  certain  to  be  killed  if  detected, 
and  it  would  have  hee.ii  out  of  the  question  to  attempt  to 
approach  the  French  camp  in  the  uniform  of  a  British 
officer.  Could  he  have  spoken  Canadian  French  the 
mission  would  have  been  comparatively  easy,  but  hd 
knew  only  a  few  words  of  the  language,  and  would  be 
detected  the  instant  he  opened  his  lips. 

The  canoe  was  hauled  up  and  carefully  oncealed  on 
land,  and  then  they  lay  down  until  daylight,  for  no 
information  as  to  the  strength  of  the  enemy  could  be 
gained  in  the  dark.  In  the  morning  the  two  scouts  very 
carefully  made  their  toilet.  They  had  brought  all  neces- 
saries with  them;  and  soon,  in  their  Indian  hunting- 
shirts  and  fringed  leggings,  and  with  carefully  painted 
faces,  they  were  in  a  position  to  defy  the  keenest  scrutiny. 

When,  after  a  careful  survey  of  each  other,  they  felt 
that  their  disguise  was  complete,  they  moved  boldly  for- 
ward, accompaiiied  by  James.  After  half  an  hour's 
walking  they  emerged  from  the  forest,  and  the  strong 
fort  of  Crown  Point  lay  befofe  them.  It  was  con- 
structed of  stone,  and  was  capable  of  withstanding  a  long 
siege  by  any  force  which  could  be  brought  against  it. 
Around  it  was  the  camp  of  the  French  troops,  and  James 
judged  from  the  number  of  tents  that  there  must  be  some 
1500  French  soldiers  there.  'A  short  distance  away  were 
a  large  number  af  roughly  constructed  huts  roofed  with 
boughs  of  trees. 

"  Them's  the  Canadians,"  Jonathan  said.  "  The  red- 
skins never  build  shelters  while  on  the  warpath.  There 
are  a  heap  of  redskins  about." 

These,  indeed,  even  at  the  distance  of  several  hundred 
^ards^  could  be  easil;r  distinguished  from  their  white 


SCOXiTING  6n  LAK£  CHAMPLAm. 


421 


allies  by  their  plumed  head-dresses  and  by  the  blankets 
or  long  robes  of  skins  which  hung  from  their  shoulders. 

"  I  should  put  them  down  at  3000." 

"  It  is  a  big  army,"  Nat  said.  "  I  should  think  there 
must  be  quite  as  many  Canadians  as  French.  How 
many  redskins  there  are  there  aint  no  knov/ing,  but  we 
may  be  sure  that  they  will  have  got  together  as  many 
as  they  could.  Put  'em  down  at  4000,  and  that  makes 
7000  altogether,  enough  to  eat  up  Fort  William  Henry 
and  to  march  to  Albany." 

"  Ay,  or  to  New  York  if  they  are  well  led  and  take 
fancy  to  it — that  is,  if  the  colonists  don't  bestir  them- 
selves smartly.  Well,  so  far  you  have  found  out  what 
you  came  to  seek,  captain.     What's  the  next  thing?  " 

"  We  must  discover,  if  we  can,  whether  they  mean  to 
go  up  the  lakes  in  boats  or  to  march  through  the  woods," 
James  replied.  "  They  will  have  a  tremendous  job  get- 
ting any  guns  through  the  woods,  but  if  they  are  going 
by  water  of  course  they  can  bring  them." 

"  Very  well,"  Nat  replied.  "  In  that  case,  captain, 
my  advice  is,  you  stop  in  the  woods,  and  Jonathan  and  I 
will  go  down  past  the  fort  to  the  shore  and  see  what 
provision  they  are  making  in  that  way.  You  see,  the 
place  swarms  with  Canadians,  and  you  would  be  sure 
to  be  spoken  to.  Redskins  don't  talk  much  to  each 
other  unless  there  is  some  need  for  words,  and  we  can 
go  right  through  the  French  camp  without  fear.  The 
only  danger  is  of  some  loping  Mohawk  coming  up  to 
us,  and  I  don't  reckon  there  are  many  of  'em  in  the  camp, 
perhaps  nary  a  one." 

Although  James  did  not  like  his  followers  to  go  into 
danger  without  his  sharing  it,  he  saw  that  his  presence 
would  enormously  add  to  their  risks,  and  therefore 
agreed  to  their  plan.  Withdrawing  some  distance  into 
the  wood,  and  choosing  a  thick  growth  of  underwood, 
he  entered,  and  lay  down  in  the  bushes,  while  the  two 
scouts  walked  quietly  away  toward  the  camp. 

Two  hours  passed.  Several  times  he  heard  footsteps 
in  the  wood  near  him,  and,  peering  through  the  leaves, 


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caught  sight  of  parties  of  Indians  going  toward  the 
camp,  either  late  arrivals  from  Montreal  or  bands  that 
had  been  out  scouting  or  hunting.  At  the  end  of  the 
two  hours,  to  his  great  relief,  he  saw  two  figures  coming 
from  the  other  way  through. the  woods,  and  at  once 
recognized  the  scouts.  He  crawled  out  and  joined  them 
as  they  came  up. 

"Thank  God  you  are  back  again!  I  have  been  in 
a  fever  all  ^hc  time  you  have  been  away." 

"  I  wish  I  had  known  the  precise  place  where  you 
were  hiding,  I  should  have  made  a  sign  to  you  to  keep 
quiet;  but  it  aint  of  no  use  now." 

"  What's  the  matter  then,  Nat?  " 

"  I  aint  quite  sure  as  anything  is  the  matter,"  the 
scout  replied;  "  but  I  am  feared  of  it.  As  bad  luck  would 
have  it,  just  as  we  were  coming  back  through  the  camp 
we  came  upon  a  Mohawk  chief.  He  looked  hard  at  us, 
and  then  came  up  and  said:  *The  Owl  thought  that  he 
knew  all  his  brothers;  but  here  are  two  whose  faces  are 
strange  to  him.'  Of  course  I  told  him  that  we  had  been 
living  and  hunting  for  years  in  the  English  colony,  but 
that  hearing  that  the  Mohawks  had  joined  the  French 
we  had  come  to  fight  beside  our  brothers.  He  asked 
a  few  questions,  and  then  passed  on.  But  I  could  seo 
the  varmin  was  not  satisfied,  though,  in  course,  he  pre- 
tended to  be  glad  to  welcome  us  back  to  the  tribe.  So 
we  hung  about  the  camp  for  another  half  hour,  and  then 
made  a  sweep  before  we  came  oul  here.  I  didn't  look 
round,  but  Jonathan  stooped  as  if  the  lace  of  his  moc- 
casin had  come  undone,  and  managed  to  look  back,  but 
in  course  he  didn't  see  anything." 

"  Then  you  have  no  reason  to  believe  you  are  followed, 
Nat?" 

"Don't  I  tell  you  I  have  every  reason?"  Nat  said. 
"  If  that  redskin,  the  Owl,  has  got  any  suspicion — and 
suspicion  you  may  be  sure  he's  got — he  won't  rest  till 
he's  cleared  the  matter  up.    He  is  after  us,  sure  enough." 

"  Then  had  we  not  better  make  for  the  canoe  at  full 
speed?  " 


SCOUTINC  6M  LAKE  CMAMPtAlM. 


*23 


*'  No,"  Nat  said.  "  If  they  are  behind  us  they  will  be 
watching  our  trail,  and  if  they  see  we  change  our  pace 
they  will  be  after  us  like  a  pack  of  wolves,  while  as  long 
as  we  walk  slowly  and  carelessly  they  will  let  us  go.  If 
it  were  dark  we  might  make  a  run  for  it,  but  there  aint 
no  chance  at  present.  If  we  took  to  the  lake  we  should 
have  a  hundred  canoes  after  us,  while  the  woods  are  full 
of  Indians,  and  a  whoop  of  the  Owl  would  bring  a  hun- 
dred of  them  down  onto  our  track." 

"  Why  shouldn't  the  Owl  have  denounced  you  at  once 
if  he  suspected  you?  "  James  asked. 

"  Because  it  aint  redskin  nature  to  do  anything  till  you 
are  sure,"  the  scout  replied.  "  There  is  nothing  a  red- 
skin hates  so  much  as  to  be  wrong,  and  he  would  rather 
wait  for  weeks  to  make  sure  of  a  thing  than  run  the  risk 
of  making  a  mistake.  I  don't  suppose  he  takes  us  for 
whites.  He  expects  we  belong  to  some  other  tribe  come 
in  as  spies." 

"  Then  what  are  you  thinking  of  doing? "  James 
asked. 

"  We  will  go  on  a  bit  further,"  Nat  said,  "  in  hopes 
of  coming  across  some  stream  where  we  may  hide  our 
trail.  If  we  can't  find  that  we  will  sit  down  before  long 
and  eat  as  if  we  was  careless  and  in  no  hurry." 

For  a  time  they  walked  on  in  silence. 

"  Do  you  think  they  are  close  to  us?  "  James  asked 
presently. 

"  Not  far  away,"  the  scout  said  carelessly.  "  So  long 
as  they  see  we  aint  hurrying  they  will  go  easy.  They 
will  know  by  this  time  that  we  have  a  white  nan  with 
us,  and  like  enough  the  Owl  will  have  sent  back  for  one 
or  ,two  more  of  his  warriors.  Likely  enough  he  only 
took  one  with  him  at  first,  seeing  we  were  but  two,  and 
that  he  reckoned  on  taking  us  by  surprise;  but  when 
he  saw  you  joined  us  he  would  send  back  for  perhaps 
a  couple  more." 

"  Then  what  I  would  suggest,"  James  said,  "  is,  that 
we  should  at  once  stroll  down  to  our  canoe,  put  it  in  the 
water,  and  paddle  out  a  few  hundred  yards,  and  there 


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to 

let  down  the  lines  we  have  got  on  board  and  beg^n  ?o 
fish.  As  long  as  we  are  quiet  there  the  redskins  may 
not  interfere  with  us,  and  when  it  gets  dark  we  can  make 
off.  At  the  worst  we  have  a  chance  for  it,  and  it  seems 
to  me  anything  would  be  better  than  this  sort  of  wander- 
ing about  when  we  know  that  at  any  time  we  may  have 
them  down  upon  us." 

"  Perhaps  that  is  the  best  plan,"  Nat  said.  "  What  do 
you  think,  Jonathan  ?  " 

Jonathan  gave  an  assenting  grunt,  and  they  turned 
their  faces  toward  the  lake,  still  walking  at  the  same 
leisurely  pace.  Not  once  did  any  of  the  three  look  back. 
As  they  neared  the  water  James  found  the  temptation 
very  strong  to  do  so,  but  he  restrained  it,  and  sauntered 
along  as  carelessly  as  ever.  The  canoe  was  lifted  from 
its  hiding-place  and  put  in  the  water.  As  they  were 
about  to  step  in  the  bushes  parted,  and  the  Owl  stood 
beside  them. 

"  Where  are  my  brothers  going?  "  he  asked  quietly. 

"  We  are  going  fishing,"  Nat  answered.  "  The  noise 
in  the  woods  will  have  frightened  game  away." 

"There  is  food  in  the  camp,"  the  Owl  said.  "The 
French  give  food  to  their  brothers  the  redskins." 

"  My  white  brother  wants  fish,"  Nat  said  quietly,  "  and 
we  have  told  him  we  will  catch  him  some.  Will  the 
Owl  go  with  us?  " 

The  Indian  shook  his  head,  and  in  a  moment  the 
canoe  put  off  from  the  shore,  the  Indian  standing  watch- 
ing them  at  the  edge  of  the  water. 

"  That's  a  badly  puzzled  redskin,"  Nat  said,  with  a  low 
laugh.  "  His  braves  have  not  come  up  yet  or  he  would 
not  have  let  us  start.  There,  that  is  far  enough;  we  are 
out  of  the  range  of  Indian  guns.  Now  lay  in  your  pad- 
dles and  begin  to  fish.  There  are  several  canoes  fishing 
further  out,  and  the  redskin  will  feel  safe.  He  can  cut 
us  off  providing  we  don't  go  beyond  them." 

The  Indian  was,  as  Nat  had  said,  puzzled.  That 
something  was  wrong  he  was  sure;  byut  as  he  was  alone 
be  was  unable  to  oppose  thWr  departure.    He  watched 


SCOUTING   ON   LAKE  CHAMPLAIM. 


335 


them  closely  as  they  paddled  out,  in  readiness  to  give  a 
war-whoop  which  would  have  brought  down  the  fishing 
canoes  outside,  and  given  warning  to  every  Indian  within 
sound  of  his  voice ;  but  when  he  saw  them  stop  and  begin 
to  fish  he  hesitated.  If  he  gave  the  alarm  he  might 
prove  to  be  mistaken,  and  he  shrank  from  facing  the 
ridicule  which  a  false  alarm  would  bring  upon  him. 
Should  they  really  prove,  as  he  believed,  to  be  spies,  he 
would,  if  he  gave  the  alarm,  lose  the  honor  and  glory 
of  their  capture,  and  their  scalps  would  fall  to  other 
hands — a  risk  not  to  be  thought  of.  He  therefore  waited 
until  six  of  his  braves  came  up.  He  had  already  retired 
among  the  trees  before  he  joined  them;  but  the  canoe 
was  still  visible  through  the  branches. 

"  The  men  we  tracked  have  taken  to  the  water;  they 
are  fishing.  The  Owl  is  sure  that  they  are  not  of  our 
tribe;  but  we  must  wait  till  he  sees  what  they  will  do. 
Let  three  of  my  brothers  go  and  get  a  canoe,  and  paddle 
out  beyond  them,  and  there  fish.  I  will  remain  with  the 
others  here.  If  they  come  back  again  we  will  seize  them. 
If  they  go  out  further  my  brothers  will  call  to  the  red- 
skins in  the  other  canoes,  and  will  cut  them  ofif.  The 
Owl  and  his  friends  will  soon  be  with  them." 

"There  is  another  canoe  coming  out,  Nat,"  James 
said.    "  Hadn't  we  better  make  a  run  for  it  at  once?  " 

"  Not  a  bit  of  it,  captain.  Dear  me,  how  difficult  it  is 
to  teach  men  to  have  patience !  I  have  looked  upon  you 
as  a  promising  pupil;  but  there  you  are,  just  as  hasty 
and  impatient  as  if  you  had  never  spent  a  day  in  the 
woods.  Where  should  we  run  to?  We  must  go  up  the 
lake,  for  we  could  not  pass  the  point,  for  fifty  canoes 
would  be  put  out  before  we  got  there.  We  couldn't  land 
this  side,  because  the  woods  are  full  of  redskins;  and  if 
we  led  them  for  ten  miles  down  the  lake  and  landed 
t'other  side  scores  of  them  would  land  between  here  and 
there,  and  would  cut  us  off.  No,  lad;  we  have  got  to 
wait  here  till  it's  getting  late.  I  don't  say  till  it's  dark, 
but  till  within  an  hour  or  so  of  nightfall.  As  long  as 
we  show  no  signs  of  goings  the  change?  is  as  the^  won't 


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interfere  with  us.  It's  a  part  of  redskin  natur  to  be 
patient,  and  as  long  as  they  see  as  we  don't  try  to  make 
off  they  will  leave  us  alone.  That's  how  I  reads  it. 
You  agrees  with  me,  Jonathan?  In  course  you  do,"  he 
went  on,  as  his  companion  grunted  an  assent.  "  I  don't 
say  as  they  mayn't  ask  a  question  or  so;  but  I  don't 
believe  as  they  will  interfere  with  us." 

"There  is  a  fish  on  your  line,  captain.  You  don't 
seem  to  me  to  be  attending  to  your  business." 

James  indeed  found  it  difficult  to  fix'  his  attention 
on  his  line  when  he  knew  that  they  were  watched  by  hos' 
tile  eyes,  and  that  at  any  moment  a  conflict  might  begin. 

The  canoe  that  had  come  out  last  had  shaped  its 
course  so  as  to  pass  close  to  those  fishing  outside  them, 
and  a  few  words  had  been  exchanged  with  the  occupants 
of  each — a  warning,  no  doubt,  as  to  the  suspicious  char- 
acter of  the  fishing  party  near  them.  Beyond  this 
nothing  had  happened.  The  Indians  in  the  canoe  had 
let  down  their  lines,  and  seemed  as  intent  as  the  others 
upon  their  fishing.  The  hours  passed  slowly.  Under 
other  circumstances  James  would  have  enjoyed  the  sport, 
for  the  fish  bit  freely  and  a  considerable  number  were 
soon  lying  in  the  canoe.  Nat  and  Jonathan  appeared 
as  interested  in  their  work  as  if  no  other  boat  but  their 
own  were  afloat  on  the  lake.  Never  once  did  James  see 
them  glance  toward  the  canoes.  They  did  not  talk 
much,  but  when  they  spoke  it  was  always  in  the  Indian 
tongue. 

The  time  seemed  endless  before  the  sun  began  to  sink 
beyond  the  low  hills  on  their  left.  It  was  an  intense 
relief  to  James  when  Nat  said  at  last : 

"The  time  is  just  at  hand  now,  cap.  The  redskins 
are  tired  of  waiting.  At  least  they  think  that  they  had 
better  not  put  it  off  any  longer.  They  know  as  well  as 
we  do  that  it  won't  do  to  wait  till  it  gets  dark.  Do  you 
see  that  canoe  that  came  out  last  is  paddling  down 
toward  us?  It  looks  as  if  it  were  drifting,  but  I  have 
seen  them  dip  a  paddle  in  several  times.  The  others  are 
pulling  up  their  lines  so  as  to  be  in  readiness  to  join  in. 


SCOUTING  ON  LAK£  CHAMPLAIN. 


237 


Get  your  piece  ready  to  pick  up  and  aim  the  moment 
I  give  the  word.  They  think  they  are  going  to  surprise 
us,  but  we  must  be  first  with  them.  Go  on  with  your 
fishing,  and  just  drop  your  Hne  overboard  when  you 
pick  up  your  gun." 

The  canoe  approached  slowly  until  it  was  within  thirty 
yards.  James  and  his  companions  went  on  with  their 
fishing  as  if  they  did  not  notice  the  approach  of  the  other 
canoe,  until  one  of  the  Indians  spoke. 

"  Have  my  Indian  brothers  caught  many  fish?" 

"  A  goodish  few,"  Nat  replied.  **  One  or  two  of  them 
are  large  ones.  See  here,"  and  he  stooped  as  if  to  select 
a  large  fish. 

"Now,"  he  said  suddenly. 

In  an  instant  the  three  rifles  were  leveled  to  the 
shoulder  and  pointed  at  the  Indians.  The  latter,  t^ken 
completely  by  surprise,  and  finding  themselves  with 
three  barrels  leveled  at  them,  as  by  one  accord  dived 
overboard. 

"  Now  your  paddles,"  Nat  exclaimed. 

Three  strokes  sent  the  canoe  dancing  up  to  that  which! 
the  Indians  had  just  left.  It  struck  it  on  the  broad  side 
and  rolled  it  instantly  over. 

"  Those  redskin  guns  are  out  of  the  way,  anyhow/' 
Nat  said.     "  Now  we  have  got  to  row  for  it." 

He  gave  a  sharp  turn  to  the  canoe  as  he  spoke,  and  it 
bounded  away  toward  the  right,  thereby  throwing  those 
outside  it  on  their  quarter.  Simultaneously  with  the 
upset  of  the  canoe  half  a  dozen  rifles  rang  out  from  the 
shore,  an  Indian  war-whoop  rose  at  the  edge  of  the 
woods,  and  a  minute  later 4i2ilf  a  dozen  canoes  shot  out 
from  shore. 


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Wittt  WOLFfi  IN  CANADA. 


CHAPTER  XV. 


THROUGH   MANY  PERILS 

The  dourse  Nat  was  taking  was  not  parallel  to  that  of 
the  boats  outside  him.  He  was  sheerino-  gradually 
out  into  the  lake,  and  although  the  boat  was  traveling 
somewhat  faster  than  its  pursuers,  James  saw  that  its 
course  would  carry  it  across  their  bows  at  a  dangerously 
close  distance.  The  Indians  were  not  long  in  seeing  that 
the  canoe  was  outstripping  them,  and  in  each  of  the  boats 
one  of  the  redskins  laid  aside  his  paddle  and  began  to 
fire.  The  balls  struck  the  water  near  the  canoe,  but  no 
one  was  hit.  "  Let  them  fire,"  Jonathan  said;  "  it  aint 
every  man  as  can  shoot  straight  from  a  canoe  going  at 
racing  pace.  The  more  they  fires  the  better;  they  will 
only  fall  further  behind." 

After  firing  two  or  three  shots  each  of  the  Indians 
appeared  to  be  of  the  same  opinion,  and  resumed  their 
paddles;  but  they  had  lost  so  much  ground  that  the 
canoe  they  were  in  chase  of  shot  out  into  the  lake  fifty 
yards  ahead  of  the  nearest.  Some  more  shots  were 
fired,  and  then  the  Indians  began  hastily  to  throw  the 
fish  with  which  their  canoes  were  laden  into  the  water. 
After  paddling  two  or  three  hundred  yards  farther  Nat 
laid  in  his  paddle. 

"  Out  with  them  fish,"  he  said.  "  You  can  leave  one 
or  two  for  supper,  but  the  rest  must  go  overboard.  Be 
quick  about  it,  for  those  canoes  from  the  shore  are  com- 
ing up  fast."  ^ 

The  work  was  concluded  just  as  the  canoes  with  the 
Owl  and  his  warriors  came  up  with  the  others,  which, 
having  now  got  rid  of  their  fish,  again  set  out,  and  in  a 
close  body  the  ten  canoes  started  in  pursuit. 

"  Paddle  steady,"  Nat  said ;  "  and  whatever  you  do,  be 
keerful  of  your  blades.  If  one  was  to  break  now  it  would 
mean  the  loss  of  our  scalps.  Don't  gain  on  'em ;  as  long 
Sts  the  redskins  on  shore  think  as  their  friends  are  going . 


THROUGH  MANV  PER!LS. 


929 


fo  catch  us,  they  won't  care  to  put  out  and  join  in  the 
chase;  but  if  they  thought  we  was  getting  away  they 
might  launch  canoes  ahead  of  us  and  cut  us  oflf.  The 
nearer  we  are  to  them  the  better  as  long  as  we  are  keep- 
ing ahead." 

For  an  hour  the  chase  continued.  The  Indians, 
although  straining  every  nerve,  did  not  gain  a  foot  upon 
the  fugitives,  who,  although  paddling  hard,  had  still  some 
reserve  of  strength.  The  sun  by  this  time  was  touching 
the  tops  of  the  hills. 

"  Now,  cap,"  Nat  said,  "  it's  time  to  teach  'em  as  we 
can  bite  a  bit.  They  won't  be  quite  so  hot  over  it  if  we 
give  them  a  lesson  now.  Do  you  turn  round  and  pepper 
them  a  bit.  Now,  old  hoss!  you  and  I  must  row  all  we 
know  for  a  bit." 

Turning  himself  in  the  canoe,  resting  his  elbow  on  his 
knee  to  steady  his  rifle,  James  took  as  careful  an  aim  as 
the  dancing  motion  of  thf.  boat  permitted,  and  fired.  A 
dull  sound  came  back  like  an  echo  to  the  crack  of  the 
piece,  and  a  paddle  ir.  the  leading  boat  fell  into  the 
water;  a  yell  arose  from  the  Indians,  but  no  answering 
shout  came  back.  The  Indians  were  now  paddling  even 
harder  than  before,  in  hope  of  overtaking  the  canoe,  now 
that  it  was  impelled  by  but  two  rowers.  But  the  scouts 
were  rowing  their  hardest,  and  proved  the  justice  of  their 
fame  as  the  best  paddlers  on  the  lakes,  by  maintaining 
their  distance  from  their  pursuers. 

Agdn  and  again  James  fired,  several  of  his  bullets  tak- 
ing effect.     It  was  now  rapidly  becoming  dusk. 

"  That  will  do,  captain ;  we  had  best  be  showing  them 
our  heels  now,  and  get  as  far  ahead  as  we  can  by  the  time 
it  is  quite  dark." 

James  laid  by  his  rifle  and  again  took  his  paddle,  and 
as  all  were  rowing  at  the  top  of  their  speed  they  gradu- 
ally increased  the  distance  between  themselves  and  their 
pursuers.  Rapidly  the  gap  of  water  widened,  and  when 
darkness  fell  on  the  lake  the  fugitives  were  more  than  half 
a  mile  ahead  of  their  pursuers.  The  night  was  dark,  and 
a  light  mist  rising  from  the  water  further  ^ided  them. 


n.i  . 


II 


■ 

i  • 


I' 


III 


4  'A 


3  ■ 


!l 


^$0 


WITH   WOLFE   IN   CANADA. 


When  night  had  set  in  the  pursuing  canoes  could  no 
longer  be  seen. 

For  another  half  hour  they  paddled  on  without  inter- 
mitting their  efforts;  then  to  James'  surprise  Nat  turned 
the  head  of  the  canoe  to  the  western  shore.  He  asked 
no  questions,  however,  having  perfect  faith  in  Nat's 
sagacity.  They  were  nearly  in  the  middle  of  the  lake 
when  they  altered  their  course,  and  it  took  them  half  an 
hour's  hard  paddling  before  the  dark  mass  of  trees 
loomed  up  in  the  darkness  ahead  of  him.  Ten  minutes 
before  Nat  had  passed  the  word  that  they  should  paddle 
quietly  and  noiselessly.  It  was  certain  that  the  chase 
would  be  eagerly  watched  from  the  shore,  and  that  any 
Indians  there  might  be  in  the  wood  would  be  closely 
watching  near  the  water's  edge. 

Accordingly,  as  noiselessly  as  possible,  they  ap- 
proached the  shore,  and  gliding  in  between  the  over- 
hanging trees,  laid  the  canoe  alongside  a  clump  of  bushes, 
then  without  a  word  being  spoken  they  laid  in  their 
paddles  and  stretched  themselves  full  length  in  the 
canoe.  James  was  glad  of  the  rest,  for,  trained  and  hard 
as  were  his  muscles,  he  was  exhausted  by  the  long  strain 
of  the  row  for  life. 

He  guessed  that  Nat  would  calculate  that  the  Indian 
canoes  would  scatter  when  they  lost  sight  of  them,  and 
that  they  would  seek  for  them  more  closely  on  the  eastern 
shore.  At  the  same  time  he  was  surprised  that  after  once 
getting  out  of  sight  of  their  pursuers  Nat  had  not  imme- 
diately landed  on  the  opposite  shore  and  started  on  foot 
through  the  woods. 

After  recovering  his  breath  James  sat  up  and  listened 
attentively.  Once  or  twice  he  thought  he  heard  the 
sound  of  a  dip  of  a  paddle  out  on  the  lake,  but  he  could 
not  be  sure  of  it,  while  from  time  to  time  he  heard  the 
croak  of  a  frog,  sometimes  near,  sometimes  at  a  distance 
along  the  shore.  He  would  have  thought  little  of  this 
had  not  a  slight  pressure,  of  Jonathan's  hand  against  his 
foot  told  him  that  these  were  Indian  signals. 

ggme  hpurs  passed  befgre  N«^t  made  a  move,  then  ho 


THROUGH   MANY   PERILS. 


^3^ 


touched  Jonathan  and  sat  up  in  the  canoe ;  the  signal  was 
passed  on  to  James,  the  paddles  were  noiselessly  taken 
up,  and  without  a  sound  that  could  be  detected  by  the 
most  closely  listening  ear,  the  canoe  stole  out  again  on  to 
the  lake.  Until  some  distance  from  shore  they  paddled 
very  quietly,  then  gradually  the  strokes  grew  more  vigor- 
ous until  the  canoe  was  flying  along  at  full  speed  up  the 
lake,  her  course  being  laid  so  as  to  cross  very  gradually 
toward  the  eastern  side. 

It  was  not  until,  as  James  judged,  they  must  have  been 
several  miles  from  the  point  at  which  they  had  started 
that  they  approached  the  eastern  shore.  They  did  so 
with  the  same  precautions  which  had  been  adopted  on 
the  other  side,  and  sat  listening  intently  before  they  gave 
the  last  few  strokes  which  took  them  to  the  shore. 
Quietly  they  stepped  out,  and  the  two  scouts,  lifting  the 
canoe*on  their  shoulders,  carried  it  some  fifty  yards  into 
the  forest  and  laid  it  down  among  some  bushes.  Then 
they  proceeded  on  their  way,  Nat  walking  first,  James 
following  him  so  close  that  he  was  able  to  touch  him, 
for  in  the  thick  darkness  under  the  trees  he  could  not 
perceive  the  outlines  of  his  figure.  Jonathan  followed 
close  behind.  Their  progress  was  slow,  for  even  the 
trained  woodsmen  could  with  difficulty  make  their  way 
through  the  trees,  and  Nat's  only  index  as  to  the  direc- 
tion to  be  taken  lay  in  the  feel  of  the  bark  of  the  trunks. 
After  an  hour's  progress  he  whispered : 

"  We  will  stop  here  till  dayhght;  we  can'^t  do  any  good 
at  the  work.  We  haven't  made  half  a  mile  since  we 
started." 

It  was  a  positive  relief  to  James  to  hear  the  scout's 
voice,  for  not  a  single  word  had  been  spoken  since  they 
lost  sight  of  their  pursuers  in  the  darkness.  The  fact 
that  he  had  ventured  now  to  speak  showed  that  he  be- 
lieved that  they  were  comparatively  safe. 

"  May  I  speak,  Nat?  "  he  asked  after  they  had  seated 
themselves  on  the  ground. 

"  Ay,  you  may  speak,  captain,  but  don't  you  raise  yoyr 
voice  above  a  whisper  j  tliere  is  no  saying  what  redskin 


■W  ' 


;  ^,!  ■ 


m 


2Sa 


WITH  WOLFE  IN  CANADA. 


ears  may  be  near  us.  I  guess  these  forests  are  pretty  well 
alive  with  them.  You  may  bet  there  isn't  a  redskin  or 
one  of  the  irregular  Canadian  bands  but  is  out  arter  us 
to-night.  The  war-whoop  and  the  rifles  will  have  put 
them  all  on  the  lookout.  They  will  have  seen  that  we 
were  pretty  well  holding  our  own,  and  will  guess  that 
when  night  came  on  we  should  give  the  canoes  the  slip. 
I  guess  they  will  have  placed  a  lot  of  canoes  and  flat-boats 
across  the  lake  opposite  Crown  Point,  for  they  will  know 
that  we  should  either  head  back  or  take  to  the  woods.  I 
guess  most  of  the  redskins  near  Crown  Point  will  have 
crossed  over  at  this  point,  as  in  course  we  were  more 
likely  to  land  on  this  side.  I  had  a  mighty  good  mind 
to  land  whar  we  was  over  there,  but  there  are  sure  to  be 
such  a  heap  of  Indians  making  their  way  up  that  side 
from  Montreal  that  I  judge  this  will  be  the  best;  but  we 
shall  have  all  we  can  do  to  ""et  free  of  them." 

"  Why  didn't  you  land  i  nee,  Nat,  after  we  lost  sight 
of  them  instead  of  crossing  over?  " 

"  Because  that's  where  they  will  reckon  we  shall  land, 
captain,  that's  where  they  will  look  for  our  tracks  the  first 
thing  in  the  morning,  and  they  will  know  that  we  can't 
travel  far  such  a  dark  night  as  this,  and  they  will  search 
every  inch  of  the  shore  for  three  or  four  miles  below 
where  they  lost  sight  of  us,  to  find  where  we  landed. 
They  would  know  well  enough  we  couldn't  get  ashore, 
without  leaving  tracks  as  they  would  make  out,  and  they 
would  reckon  to  pick  up  our  trail  fast  enough  in  the  wood 
and  overtake  us  before  we  had  gone  many  miles.  Now 
you  see  we  have  doubled  on  them.  The  varmint  in  the 
woods  will  search  the  edge  of  the  lake  in  the  morning, 
but  it's  a  good  long  stretch  to  go  over,  and  if  we  have 
luck  they  mayn't  strike  on  our  landing-place  for  some 
hours  after  daylight.  In  course  they  may  hit  on  it 
earlier;  still  it  gives  us  a  chance  anyhow.  Another 
thing  is,  we  have  twenty  miles  less  to  travel  through  the 
woods  than  if  we  had  to  start  up  there,  and  that  makes 
all  the  difference  when  you've  got  redskins  at  your  heels. 
If  we  don't  have  the  bad  luck  to  come  across  some  of  the 


tHROUGH   MANY   PfeWtl 


m 


varmint  in  the  woods  I  expect  we  shall  carry  our  scalps 
back  to  Fort  William  Henry.  Now  you  had  best  sleep 
till  daybreak;  we  shan't  get  another  chance  till  we  get 
into  the  fort  again." 

With  the  first  dawn  of  morning  they  were  on  their  way. 
Striking  straight  back  into  the  woods  they  walked  fast, 
but  with  the  greatest  care  and  caution,  occasionally  mak- 
ing bends  and  detours  to  prevent  the  redskins  following 
their  traces  at  a  run,  which  they  would  have  been  able  to 
do  had  they  walked  in  a  straight  line.  Whenever  the 
ground  was  soft  they  walked  without  trying  to  conceal 
their  tracks,  for  Nat  knew  that  however  carefully  they 
progressed  the  Indians  would  be  able  to  make  out  their 
trail  here.  When,  however,  they  came  to  rocky  and 
broken  ground  they  walked  with  the  greatest  caution, 
avoiding  bruising  any  of  the  plants  growing  between  the 
rocks.  After  walking  ten  miles  in  this  direction  they 
turned  to  the  south. 

"  We  ought  to  be  pretty  safe  now,"  Nat  said ;  "  they 
may  be  three  or  four  hours  before  they  hit  on  our  landing- 
place  and  find  the  canoe.  I  don't  say  as  they  won't  be 
ajble  to  follow  our  trail — there  aint  no  saying  what  red- 
skin eyes  can  do — but  it  '11  take  them  a  long  time  any- 
way. There  aint  much  risk  of  running  against  any  of 
them  in  the  forest  now.  I  guess  that  most  of  them  fol- 
lowed the  canoe  down  the  lake  last  night.  Anyway  we 
are  well  out  from  Lake  Champlain  now.  When  we  have 
gone  another  fifteen  mile  we  shan't  be  far  from  the  upper 
arm_.  There's  a  canoe  been  lying  hidden  there  for  the 
last  two  years  unless  some  tramping  redskin  has  found 
it,  which  aint  likely." 

Twenty  miles  further  walking  brought  them  to  the 
shore  of  the  lake.  Following  this  for  another  hour  they 
came  upon  the  spot  where  a  little  stream  ran  into  the 
lake. 

"  Here  we  are,"  Nat  said.  "  Fifty  yards  up  here  we 
shall  find  the  canoe.'* 

They  followed  the  stream  up  for  a  little  distance,  and 
then  Nat,  leaving  its  edge,  made  for  a  clump  of  bushes  a 


|;i 

m 

m,^ 

' 


•-:,*l 


m 


witii  wotffi  m  Canada. 


few  ,3'^ards  away.  Pushing  the  thick  foliage  aside  he 
made  his  way  into  the  center  of  the  clump. 

"  Here  it  is,"  he  said,  "  just  as  I  left  it." 

The  canoe  was  lifted  out  and  carried  down  to  the  lake, 
and  taking  their  seats  they  paddled  up  Lake  Champlain, 
keeping  close  under  the  shore. 

"  We  have  had  good  luck,  captain,"  Nat  said.  "  I 
hardly  thought  we  should  have  got  out  without  a  scrim- 
mage. I  expect  as  the  best  part  of  the  redskins  didn't 
trouble  themselves  very  much  about  it.  They  expect  to 
get  such  a  lot  of  scalps  and  plunder  when  they  take  the 
fort  that  the  cliance  of  three  extra  wasn't  enough  induce- 
inent  for  'em  to  take  much  trouble  over  it.  The  redskins 
in  the  canoes  who  chased  us  would  be  hot  enough  over 
it,  for  you  picked  out  two  if  not  more  of  them ;  but  those 
who  started  from  the  fort  wouldn't  have  any  particular 
reason  to  trouble  much,  especially  as  they  think  it  likely 
that  thcdC  who  were  chasing  us  would  get  the  scalps. 
When  a  redskin's  blood's  up  there  aint  no  trouble  too 
great  lor  him,  and  he  will  follow  for  weeks  to  get  his 
reveng: ;  but  take  'em  all  in  all  they  are  lazy  varmint,  and 
as  long  as  there  is  plenty  of  deer's  meat  on  hand  they 
will  eat  and  sleep  away  their  time  for  weeks." 

By  night  they  reached  the  upper  end  of  Lake  Cham- 
plain,  the  canoe  was  carefully  hidden  away  again,  and 
they  struck  through  the  woods  in  the  direction  of  Fort 
William  Henry.  They  were  now  safe  from  pursuit,  and 
after  walking  two  or  three  miles  halted  for  the  night, 
made  a  fire,  and  cooked  some  of  the  dried  meat.  When 
they  had  finished  their  meal  Nat  said : 

"  Now  we  will  move  away  a  bit  and  then  stretch  our- 
selves out." 

"  Why  shouldn't  we  lie  down  here,  Nat?  " 

"  Because  it  would  be  a  foolish  thnig  to  do,  captain. 
There  aint  no  saying  what  redskins  may  be  wandering  in 
the  woods  in  time  of  war.  A  thousand  nights  might  pass 
without  one  of  'em  happening  to  come  upon  that  fire,  but 
if  they  did  and  we  were  lying  beside  it,  all  the  trouble  we 
have  taken  to  slip  through  their  hands  would  be  chucked 


TttftOUGH   MANY  PERILS. 


«35 


clean  away.  No,  you  cannot  be  too  careful  in  the 
woods." 

They  started  early  the  next  morning,  and  before  noon 
arrived  at  Fort  William  Henry,  where  James  at  once  re- 
ported to  Colonel  Monro  what  he  had  learned  of  the 
strength  of  the  French  force  gathering  at  Crown  Point. 

"Thank  you,  Captain  Walsham,"  the  commandant 
said.  "  I  am  greatly  indebted  to  you  for  having  brought 
us  certain  news  of  what  is  coming.  I  will  write  off  at 
once  and  ask  for  reinforcements.  This  is  a  serious  expe- 
dition, and  the  colonies  will  have  to  make  a  great  effort 
and  a  speedy  one  if  they  are  going  to  save  the  fort,  for 
from  what  we  hear  of  Montcalm  he  is  not  likely  to  let  the 
grass  grow  under  his  feet.  I  shall  report  the  services 
you  hav^  rendered." 

A:  soon  as  Colonel  Monro  received  the  report  James 
had  brought  him  he  sent  to  General  Webb,  who  with 
2600  men,  chiefly  provincials,  was  at  Fort  Edward,  four- 
teen miles  away. 

On  the  25th  of  July  that  general  visited  Fort  William 
Henry,  and  after  remaining  there  four  days  returned  to 
Fort  Edward,  whence  he  wrote  to  the  governor  of  New 
York,  telling  him  the  French  were  coming,  and  urging 
him  to  send  forward  the  militia  at  once,  saying  that  he 
was  determined  to  march  himself  with  all  his  troops  to 
the  fort.  Instead  of  doing  so,  three  days  later  he  sent  up 
a  detachment  of  200  regulars  under  Lieutenant-Colonel 
Young,  and  800  Massachusetts  men  under  Colonel  Frye. 

This  raised  the  force  at  Fort  William  Henry  to  2200 
men,  and  reduced  that  of  Webb  to  1600.  Had  Webb 
been  a  brave  and  determined  man  he  would  have  left  a 
few  hundred  men  only  to  hold  Fort  Edward,  and 
marched  with  the  rest  to  assist  Monro,  when  on  the 
morning  of  the  3d  of  August  he  received  a  letter  from 
him,  saying  that  the  French  were  in  sight  on  the  lake,  but' 
as  he  was  neither  brave  nor  determined,  he  remained  at 
Fort  Edward  sending  off  message  after  message  to  New 
York  for  help  which  could  not  possibly  arrive  in  time. 

Already  the  garrison  of  Fort  William  Henry  had  suf- 


i>  'h  i 


.(    '   : 


i 


&^6 


SVITH   WOLFfi   IN   CANADA. 


fered  one  reverse.  Three  hundred  provincials,  chiefly 
New  Jersey  men,  under  Colonel  Parker,  had  been  sent 
out  to  reconnoiter  the  French  outposts.  The  scouts 
under  James  Walsham  were  of  the  party.  They  were  to 
proceed  in  boats  down  the  lake. 

•'  I  don't  like  this  business  no.  way,  captain,"  Nat  said 
as  the  company  took  their  place  in  the  boats.  "This 
aint  neither  one  thing  or  the  other.  If  Monro  wants  to 
find  out  about  the  enemy  Jonathan  and  I  kin  do  it.  If 
he  wants  to  fight  the  enemy,  this  lot  aint  enough;  be- 
sides, these  New  Jersey  men  know  no  more  about  the 
forest  than  so  many  children.  You  mark  my  words,  this 
is  going  to  be  bad  business.  Why,  they  can  see  all 
these  boats  halfway  down  the  lake,  and  with  all  these 
redskins  about  they  will  ambush  us  as  soon  as  we  try  to 
land.  Look  here,  captain;  you  know  that  I  aint  no 
.coward.  I  don't  think  no  one  can  say  that  of  me.  I  am 
ready  to  fight  when  there  is  a  chance  of  fighting,  but  I 
don't  see  no  good  in  getting  myself  killed  off  when  there 
aint  no  good  in  it.  So  what  I  says  is  this,  don't  you  be 
in  a  hurry,  captain,  with  these  boats  of  ours." 

"  But  I  must  obey  orders,  Nat,"  James  said  smiling. 

"  Yes,  you  must  obey  orders,  captain,  no  doubt ;  but 
there's  two  ways  of  obeying  orders,  the  one  is  to  rush  in 
front  and  to  do  a  little  more  than  you  are  told,  the  other 
is  to  take  things  quiet,  and  just  do  what  you  are  told  and 
no  more.  Now,  my  advice  is,  on  this  here  expedition 
you  go  on  the  last  plan;  if  you  are  ordered  to  land  first, 
why  land  first  it  must  be.  If  you  don^t  get  orders  to 
land  first,  just  let  them  as  is  in  a  hurry  land  afore  you.  I 
aint  been  teaching  all  these  lads  to  know  something 
about  the  woods  for  the  last  six  months  jest  to  see  them 
killed  off  like  flies  because  a  blundering  wrong-headed 
colonel  sends  them  out  with  250  plowmen,  for  the  red- 
skins to  see  and  attack  jest  when  they  fancies." 

"  Very  well,  Nat,  I  will  take  your  advice,  and  for  once 
we  won't  put  ourselves  in  the  front  unless  we  are 
ordered." 

Satisfied  with  this  Nat  passed  quietly  round  among  the 


THROUGH   MANY   PERILS. 


237 


men  as  they  were  taking  their  places  in  the  boats,  and 
told  them  that  there  was  no  occasion  for  them  to  row  as 
if  they  were  racing.  "  I  shall  be  in  the  captain's  boat," 
he  said ;  "  you  keep  close  to  us,  and  don't  you  try  to  push 
on  ahead.  When  we  are  once  fairly  in  the  woods,  then 
"we  will  do  the  scouting  for  the  rest,  but  there  aint  no 
hurry  for  us  to  begin  that  till  we  are  on  shore." 

"  Look  at  us,"  Nat  grumbled  in  James'  ear  as  the  boats 
started  down  the  lake;  "there  we  are  rowing  along  the 
middle  instead  of  sneaking  along  close  to  the  shore. 
Does  Parker  think  that  the  redskins  are  as  blind  as  he  is, 
and  that  'cause  it's  night  a  lot  of  big  boats  like  these  can't 
be  seen  out  in  the  middle  of  the  lake?  I  tell  you,  captain, 
if  we  aint  ambushed  as  soon  as  we  land  I  will  grant  I 
know  nothing  of  redskin  ways." 

James  had,  in  fact,  before  starting,  suggested  to  Colo- 
nel Parker  that  it  would  be  well  to  keep  under  the  shelter 
of  the  bushes;  but  the  officer  had  replied  stiffly:  "  When 
I  want  your  advice,  Captain  Walsham,  I  will  ask  for  it." 
After  which  rebuff  James  was  more  willing  than  he  had 
hitherto  been  to  act  in  accordance  with  the  advice  of  the 
scout.  Accordingly  as  they  rowed  down  the  lake  the 
boats  with  the  Royal  Scouts,  although  keeping  up  with 
the  others,  maintained  their  position  in  the  rear  of  the 
column. 

Toward  daybreak  the  boats'  heads  were  turned  to 
shore,  and  when  they  neared  it  Colonel  Parker  gave  the 
order  for  the  men  to  lay  in  their  oars,  while  the  three 
boats  which  happened  to  be  in  advance  were  told  to  ad- 
vance at  once  and  land.  The  boats  passed  through  the 
thick  curtain  of  trees  which  hung  down  over  the  water's 
edge.  A  minute  passed,  and  then  three  others  were 
ordered  to  follow  them. 

"  Did  you  hear  nothing?  "  Nat  whispered  to  James. 

"  No,  I  didn't  hear  anything,  Nat.     Did  you?  " 

"  Well,  I  think  I  did  hear  something,  captain.  It 
seems  to  me  as  I  heard  a  sort  of  scuffle." 

"  But  they  never  could  surprise  some  thirty  or  forty 
men  without  the  alarm  being  given? " 


^.fi 


M  . 


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m-A 


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rngmraF 


«3* 


WITH   WOLFE   IN  CANADA. 


"  It  depended  what  sort  of  men  they  were,"  Nat  said 
scornfully;  "  they  wouldn't  surprise  men  that  knew  their 
business;  but  those  chaps  would  just  jump  out  of  their 
boats  as  if  they  was  landed  on  a  quay  at  New  York,  and 
would  scatter  about  among  the  bushes.  Why^  Lord  bless 
you,  the  Indians  might  ambush  and  tomahawk  the  lot 
before  they  had  time  to  think  of  opening  their  lips  to 
give  a  shout." 

The  second  three  boats  had  now  disappeared  among 
the  trees,  and  Colonel  Parker  gave  the  word  for  the  rest 
to  advance  in  a  body. 

"  Look  to  your  firelocks,  lads,'*  James  said ;  "  whatever 
happens  keep  perfectly  cool.  You  at  the  oars  especially 
sit  still  and  be  ready  to  obey  orders." 

The  boats  were  within  fifty  yards  of  the  trees  when, 
from  beneath  the  drooping  boughs,  a  volley  of  musketry 
was  poured  out,  and  a  moment  later  a  swarm  of  canoes 
darted  out  from  beneath  the  branches,  and  the  terrible 
Indian  war-whoop  rang  in  the  air.  Appalled  by  the  sud- 
denness of  the  attack,  by  the  deadly  fire,  and  the  terrible 
yells,  the  greater  portion  of  the  men  in  the  boats  were 
seized  with  the  wildest  panic.  Many  of  them  jumped 
into  the  water,  others  threw  themselves  down  in  the 
bottom  of  the  boats,  some  tried  to  row,  but  were  impeded 
by  their  comrades. 

"Steady,  men,  steady!"  James  shouted  at  the  top  of 
his  voice ;  "  get  the  boats'  heads  round  and  keep  to- 
gether. We  can  beat  off  these  canoes  easy  enough  if 
you  do  but  keep  your  heads." 

His  orders  were  obeyed  promptly  and  coolly  by  the 
men  of  his  company.  The  boats  were  turned  with  their 
heads  to  the  lake  as  the  canoes  came  dashing  up,  and  the 
men  who  were  not  employed  in  rowing  fired  so  steadily 
and  truly  that  the  redskins  in  several  of  the  leading 
canoes  fell,  upsetting  their  boats. 

"  Don't  hurry,"  James  shouted ;  "  there  is  no  occasion 
for  haste,  they  can  go  faster  than  we  can;  all  we  have  got 
to  do  is  to  beat  them  oflf,  lay  in  all  the  oars  except  the  two 
bow  Q?ir§  in  ^5i.ch  boat,  all  the  rest  of  the  men  stand  to 


■■ipi 


■?^ 


THROUGH   MANY   PERILS. 


«30 


their  arms,  and  let  the  boats  follow  each  other  in  file,  the 
bow  of  one  close  to  the  stern  of  that  ahf^ad." 

The  check  which  the  volley  had  given  to  the  canoes 
gave  time  to  the  men  in  several  of  the  boats  close  to  those 
of  the  scouts  to  turn.  They  were  rowing  past  James* 
slowly  moving  boats  when  he  shouted  to  them : 

"  Steady,  men,  your  only  chance  of  escape  is  to  show 
a  front  to  them  as  we  are  doing.  They  can  overtake  you 
easily,  and  will  row  you  down  one  after  the  other.  Fall 
in  ahead  of  our  Hne,  and  do  as  we  are  doing.  You  need 
not  be  afraid;  we  could  beat  them  off  if  they  were  ten 
times  as  many." 

Reassured  by  the  calmness  with  which  James  issued 
his  orders,  the  boats  took  up  the  positions  assigned  to 
them.  James,  who  was  in  the  last  boat  in  the  line,  shud- 
dered at  the  din  going  on  behind  him.  The  yells  of  the 
Indians,  the  screams  and  cries  of  the  provincials,  mingled 
with  the  sharp  crack  of  rifles  or  the  duller  sound  of  the 
musket.  The  work  of  destruction  was  soon  over.  Save 
his  own  company  and  some  fifty  of  the  provincials  in  the 
boats  ahead,  the  whole  of  Colonel  Parker's  force  had 
been  killed  or  were  prisoners  in  the  hands  of  the  In- 
dians, who,  having  finished  their  work,  set  off  in  pursuit 
of  the  boats  which  had  escaped  them. 

James  at  once  changed  the  order,  the  front  boat  was 
halted,  and  the  others  formed  in  a  Hne  beside  it,  present- 
ing the  broad  side  to  the  approaching  fleet  of  canoes. 
When  the  latter  came  within  a  hundred  yards  a  stream  of 
fire  opened  from  the  boats,  the  men  aiming  with  the 
greatest  coolness.  The  canoes  were  checked  at  once,  a 
score  of  the  paddlers  had  sunk,  killed  or  wounded,  into 
the  bottom,  and  several  oi  the  frail  barks  were  upset.  As 
fast  as  the  men  could  load  they  continued  their  fire,  and 
in  two  minutes  from  the  first  shot  the  canoes  were 
turned  and  paddled  at  full  speed  toward  the  shore,  pur- 
sued by  a  hearty  cheer  from  the  English.  The  oars  were 
then  manned  again,  and  the  remains  of  Parker's  flotilla 
rowed  up  the  lake  to  Fort  William  Henry. 

Several  of  the  prisoners  taken  by  the  Jndian§  w^re 


1 


M 


.' 


V 
t 


' 


■•    H 


J    I 


1;  I 


P 


240 


WITH   WOLFE  IN  CANADA. 


cooked  and  eaten  by  them.  A  few  days  afterward  a 
party  of  Indians,  following  the  route  from  the  head  of 
Lake  Champlain,  made  a  sudden  attack  on  the  houses 
round  Fort  Edward,  and  killed  thirty-two  men. 

It  was  an  imposing  spectacle  as  the  French  expedition 
made  its  way  down  Lake  George.  General  Levis  had 
marched  by  the  side  of  the  lake  with  2500  men,  Cana- 
dians, regulars,  and  redskins,  while  the  main  body  pro- 
ceeded, the  troops  in  250  large  boats,  the  redskins  in 
many  hundreds  of  their  canoes. 

The  boats  moved  in  military  order;  there  were  six 
regiments  of  French  line:  La  Reine  and  Languedoc, 
La  Sarre  and  Ginenne,  Beam  and  Roussillon;  the  can- 
nons were  carried  on  platforms  formed  across  two  boats. 
Slowly  and  regularly  the  procession  of  boats  made  its 
way  down  the  lake  till  they  saw  the  signal  fires  of  Levis, 
who  with  his  command  was  encamped  near  the  water  at 
a  distance  of  two  miles  from  the  fort.  Even  then  the 
English  were  not  aware  that  near  8000  enemies  were 
gathered  close  to  them.  Monro  was  a  brave  soldier, 
but  wholly  unfitted  for  the  position  he  held,  knowing 
nothing  of  irregular  warfare,  and  despising  all  but  trained 
soldiers. 

At  daybreak  all  was  bustle  at  Fort  Henry.  Parties  of 
men  went  out  to  drive  in  the  cattle,  others  to  destroy 
buildmgs  which  would  interfere  with  the  fire  from  the 
fort.  The  English  position  was  now  more  defensible 
than  it  had  been  when  it  was  attacked  in  the  spring.  The 
forest  had  been  cleared  for  a  considerable  distance  round, 
and  the  buildings  which  had  served  as  a  screen  to  the 
enemy  had  for  the  most  part  been  removed. 

The  fort  itself  lay  close  down  by  the  edge  of  the  water, 
one  side  and  the  rear  were  protected  by  the  marsh,  so 
that  it  could  only  be  attacked  from  one  side ;  beyond  the 
marsh  lay  the  rough  ground  where  Johnson  had  en- 
camped two  years  before ;  while  on  a  flat  hill  behind  this 
was  an  intrenched  camp,  beyond  which  again  was  an- 
other marsh. 

As  soon  as  the  sun  rose  the  column  of  Levis  moved 


tttfeOtGIt   MANY   PERILS. 


64K 


through  the  forest  toward  the  fort,  followed  by  Montcalm 
with  the  main  body,  while  the  artillery  boats  put  out  from 
behind  the  point  which  had  hid  them  from  the  sight  of 
the  English,  and,  surrounded  by  hundreds  of  Indian 
canoes,  moved  slowly  forward,  opening  fire  as  they  went. 
Soon  the  sound  of  firing  broke  out  near  the  edge  of  the 
forest  all  round  the  fort,  as  the  Indians  with  Levis 
opened  fire  upon  the  soldiers  who  were  endeavoring  to 
drive  in  the  cattle. 

Hitherto  James  Walsham,  with  Edwards  and  his  two 
scouts,  was  standing  quietly  watching  the  approaching 
fleet  of  boats  and  canoes,  Nat  expressing,  in  no  measured 
terms,  his  utter  disgust  at  the  confusion  which  reigned 
in  and  around  the  fort. 

"  It  looks  more  like  a  frontier  settlement  suddenly  sur- 
prised," he  said,  "  than  a  place  filled  with  soldiers  who 
have  been  for  weeks  expecting  an  attack.  Nothing  done, 
nothing  ready ;  the  cattle  all  over  the  place ;  the  tents  on 
that  open  ground  there  still  standing;  stores  all  about  in 
the  open.  Of  all  the  pig-headed,  obstinate,  ignorant  old 
gentlemen  I  ever  see,  the  colonel  beats  them  all.  One 
might  as  well  have  an  old  woman  in  command.  Indeed, 
I  know  scores  of  old  women  on  the  frontier  who  would 
have  been  a  deal  better  here  than  him." 

But  if  Monro  was  obstinate  and  prejudiced,  he  was 
brave,  cool,  and  determined,  and  now  that  the  danger  had 
come  he  felt  secure  of  his  ground,  and  took  the  proper 
measures  for  defense,  moving  calmly  about  and  abating 
the  disposition  to  panic  by  the  calm  manner  in  which  he 
gave  his  orders.  Nat  had  scarcely  finished  his  grum- 
bling^ when  the  colonel  approached. 

"Captain  Walsham,"  he  said,  "you  will  take  your  com- 
pany at  once  and  cover  the  parties  driving  in  the  cattle. 
You  will  fall  back  with  them,  and  when  you  see  all  in 
safety  retire  into  the  intrenched  camp." 

The  company  were  already  under  arms  waiting  for 
orders,  and  at  the  double  James  led  them  up  the  sloping 
ground  tov^ard  the  forest,  whence  the  war-whoops  of  the 
Indians  and  the  sharp  cracks  of  the  rifles  were  now  ring- 


i ' 


i 


m 

*: ' 


4    . 


i     » 


le  1 

1! 


24^ 


WITH  WOLPfi  IN  CANADA. 


ing  out  on  all  sides.  James  made  for  the  spot  where  a 
score  of  soldiers  were  driving  a  number  of  cattle  before 
them,  some  hurrying  the  beasts  on  across  the  rough 
ground,  others  firing  at  the  Indians,  who,  as  their  num- 
bers increased,  were  boldly  showing  themselves  behind 
the  trees  and  advancing  in  pursuit. 

As  soon  as  they  neared  the  spot  James  scattered  his 
men  in  skirmishing  order.  Each  placed  himself  behind 
one  of  the  blackened  stumps  of  the  roughly  cleared  forest 
and  opened  fire  upon  the  Indians.  Several  of  these  fell, 
and  the  rest  bounded  back  to  the  forest,  whence  they 
opened  a  heavy  fire.  Now  the  company  showed  the  ad- 
vantage of  the  training  they  had  gone  through,  fighting 
.with  the  greatest  steadiness  and  coolness,  and  keeping 
well  in  shelter,  until,  when  the  soldiers  and  cattle  had  got 
well  on  their  way  toward  the  fort,  James  gave  the  order 
to  fall  back,  and  the  band,  crawling  among  the  stumps, 
and  pausing  to  fire  at  every  opportunity,  made  their  way 
back  without  having  lost  a  man,  although  several  had 
received  slight  wounds. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

* 

THE  MASSACRE  AT  FORT  WILLIAM  HENRY. 

When  the  skirmishing  round  Fort  Henry  was  over, 
La  Come,  with  a  body  of  Indians,  occupied  the  road  that 
led  to  Fort  Edward,  and  Levis  encamped  close  by  t©  sup- 
port him  and  check  any  sortie  the  English  might  make 
from  their  intrenched  camp.  M  ntcalm  reconnoitered 
the  position.  He  had  at  first  intended  to  attack  and  carry 
the  intrenched  camp,  but  he  found  that  it  was  too  strong 
to  be  taken  by  a  rush.  He  therefore  determined  to 
attack  the  fort  itself  by  regular  approaches  from  the 
western  side,  while  the  force  of  Levis  would  intercept 
any  succor  which  might  come  from  Fort  Edward  and  cut 
oflF  the  retreat  of  the  garrison  in  that  direction.  He  gave 
orders  that  the  cannon  were  to  be  disembarked  at  a  small 


THE   MASSACRE   AT    FORT    WILLIAM   HENRY. 


243 


cove  about  half  a  mile  from  the  fort,  and  near  this  he 
placed  his  main  camp.  He  now  sent  one  of  his  aids-de- 
camp with  a  letter  to  Monro. 

"  I  owe  it  to  humanity,"  he  said,  "  to  summon  you  to 
surrender.  At  present  I  can  restrain  the  savages  and 
make  them  observe  the  terms  of  a  capitulation,  but  I 
might  not  have  the  power  to  do  so  under  other  circum- 
stances, and  an  obstinate  defense  on  your  part  could  only 
re'  ard  the  capture  of  the  place  a  few  days  and  endanger 
the  unfortunate  garrison,  which  cannot  be  reHeved  in 
consequence  of  the  dispositions  I  have  made.  I  demand 
a  decisive  answer  within  an  hour." 

Monro  replied  simply  that  he  and  his  soldiers  would 
defend  themselves  till  the  last. 

The  trenches  were  opened  on  the  night  of  the  4th. 
The  work  was  extremely  difficult,  the  ground  being  cov- 
ered with  hard  stumps  of  trees  and  fallen  trunks.  All 
night  long  800  men  toiled  at  the  work,  while  the  g^ns 
of  the  fort  kept  up  a  constant  fire  of  round  shot  and 
grape ;  but  by  daybreak  the  first  parallel  was  made.  The 
battery  on  the  left  was  nearly  finished,  and  one  on  the 
right  begun.  The  men  were  now  working  under  shelter, 
and  the  guns  of  the  fort  could  do  them  little  harm. 

While  the  French  soldiers  worked  the  Indians  crept 
up  through  the  fallen  trees  close  to  the  fort  and  fired  at 
any  of  the  garrison,  who  might  for  a  moment  expose 
themselves.  Sharpshooters  in  the  fort  replied  to  their 
fire,  and  all  day  the  fort  was  fringed  with  light  puffs  of 
smoke,  while  the  cannon  thundered  unceasingly.  The 
next  morning  the  French  battery  on  the  left  opened  with 
eight  heavy  cannon  and  a  mortar,  and  on  the  following 
morning  the  battery  on  the  right  joined  in  with  eleven 
other  pieces. 

The  fort  only  mounted  in  all  seventeen  cannon,  for  the 
most  part  small,  and  as  some  of  them  were  upon  the  other 
faces,  the  English  fire,  although  kept  up  A^ith  spirit,  could 
reply  but  weakly  to  that  of  the  French.  The  fort  was 
composed  of  embankments  of  gravel,  surmounted  by  a 
rampart  of  heavy  logs  laid  in  tiers  crossing  each  other, 


■ii' 


l ; 


■ 


::t 


^  I 


'HP 


:;  :■ 


i'    1 


244 


WITH    WOLFE  IN   CANADA. 


the  interstices  filled  with  earth ;  and  this  could  ill  supporE 
the  heavy  cannonade  to  which  it  was  exposed.  The  roar 
of  the  distant  artillery  continuing  day  after  day  was 
plainly  audible  at  Fort  Edward ;  but  although  Monro  had 
at  the  commencement  of  the  attack  sent  off  several  mes- 
sengers asking  for  reinforcements  Webb  did  not  move. 

On  the  third  day  of  the  siege  he  had  received  2000  men 
from  New  York,  and  by  stripping  all  the  forts  below 
he  could  have  advanced  with  4500  men,  but  some 
deserters  from  the  French  told  him  that  Montcalm  had 
12,000  men,  and  Webb  considered  the  task  of  advanc- 
ing through  the  intervening  forest  and  fields  between 
him  and  Fort  Henry  far  too  dangerous  an  operation 
to  be  attempted.  Undoubtedly  it  would  have  been  a 
dangerous  one,  for  the  Indians  pervaded  the  woods  as 
far  as  Fort  Edward.  No  messenger  could  have  got 
through  to  inform  Monro  of  his  coming,  and  Mont- 
calm could  therefore  have  attacked  him  on  the  march 
with  the  greater  part  of  his  force.  Still,  a  brave 
and  determined  general  would  have  made  the  attempt. 
Webb  did  not  do  so,  but  left  Monro  to  his  fate.  He 
even  added  to  its  certainty  by  sending  off  a  letter  to  him 
telling  him  that  he  could  do  nothing  to  assist  him,  and 
advising  him  to  surrender  at  once. 

•  The  messenger  was  killed  by  the  Indians  in  the  forest, 
and  the  note  taken  to  Montcalm,"  who,  learning  that 
Webb  did  not  intend  to  advance,  was  able  to  devote  his 
whole  attention  to  the  fort.  Montcalm  kept  the  letter  for 
several  days  till  the  English  rampart  was  half  battered 
down,  and  then  sent  it  in  by  an  officer  to  Monro,  hoping 
that  it  would  induce  the  latter  to  surrender.  The  old 
soldier,  however,  remained  firm  in  his  determination  to 
hold  out,  even  though  his  position  was  now  absolutely 
hopeless.  The  trenches  had  been  pushed  forward  until 
within  250  yards  of  the  fort,  and  the  Indians  crept  up 
almost  to  the  wall  on  this  side. 

Two  sorties  were  made — one  from  the  fort,  the  other 
from  the  intrenched  camp;  but  both  were  repulsed  with 
Jps3.    Mpr^  than  300  pf  tli^  <i<?fen4ers  h^d  b^ea  kiUed 


THE  MASSACRE   AT    FOftf   WILLIAM   HENRY.  ^4^ 

and  wounded.  Small-pox  was  ragingf,  and  the  case- 
ments were  crowded  with  sick.  All  their  large  cannon 
had  been  burst  or  disabled,  and  only  seven  small 
pieces  were  fit  for  service.  The  French  battery  in  the 
foremost  trench  was  almost  completed,  and  when  this 
was  done  the  whole  of  Montcalm's  thirty-one  cannon 
and  fifteen  mortars  would  open  fire,  and  as  a  breach  had 
already  been  effected  in  the  wall,  further  resistance  would 
have  been  madness.  On  the  night  of  the  8th  it  was 
known  in  the  fort  that  a  council  of  war  would  be  held 
in  the  morning,  and  that  undoubtedly  the  fort  would 
surrender. 

James,  with  his  company,  had,  after  escorting  the 
cattle  to  the  fort,  crossed  the  marsh  to  the  intrenched 
camp,  as  the  fort  was  already  crowded  with  troops.  The 
company  therefore  avoided  the  horrors  of  the  siege. 
When  the  report  circulated  that  a  surrender  would  proba- 
bly be  made  the  next  morning  Nat  went  to  James. 

"  What  are  you  going  to  do,  captain?  " 

"  Do,  Nat?  Why,  I  have  nothing  to  do.  If  Monro 
and  his  council  decide  to  surrender,  there  is  an  end  of 
it.  You  don't  propose  that  our  company  is  to  fight 
Montcalm's  army  alone,  do  you?  " 

"  No,  I  don't,"  Nat  said  testily;  "  there  has  been  a  deal 
too  much  fighting  already.  I  understand  holding  out 
till  the  last  when  there's  a  hope  of  somebody  coming  to 
relieve  you;  but  what's  the  use  of  fighting  and  getting 
a  lot  of  your  men  killed  and  raising  the  blood  of  those 
redskin  devils  to  boiling-point?  If  the  colonel  had  given 
up  the  place  at  once  we  should  have  saved  a  loss  of  300 
men,  and  Montcalm  would  have  been  glad  enough  to 
let  us  march  oflf  to  Fort  Edward." 

"  But  -probably  he  will  agree  to  let  us  do  that  now,'^ 
James  said. 

"  He  may  agree,"  Nat  said  contemptuously ;  "  but  how 
about  the  redskins?  Do  you  think  that  after  losing  a 
lot  of  their  braves  they  are  going  to  see  us  march  quietly 
away  and  go  home  without  a  scalp?  I  tell  you,  captain, 
J,  know  redskin  nature,  and  as  sure  as  the  sun  rises 


1^ 


■    t 


•. 


i 


'i 


I- 

( ■  ' 

•  '■'  ' 

'■'■'  ■ 


^6 


mm  woLpe  in  cANAt>A. 


to-morrow  there  will  be  a  massacre,  and  I  for  one  aint 
going  to  lay  down  my  rifle  and  let  the  first  redskin  as 
takes  a  fancy  to  my  scalp  tomahawk  me." 

"  Well,  but  what  do  you  propose,  Nat?  " 

"  Well,  captain,  I  have  heard  you  say  yours  is  an 
independent  command,  and  that  you  can  act  with  the 
company  wherever  you  like.  While  you  are  here  I  know 
you  are  under  the  orders  of  the  colonel;  but  if  you  had 
chosen  to  march  away  on  any  expedition  of  your  own 
you  could  hav  2  done  it." 

"That  is  so,  Nat;  but  now  the  siege  is  once  begun 
I  don't  know  that  I  should  be  justified  in  marching  away 
even  if  I  could." 

"  But  th«y  are  going  to  surrender,  I  tell  you,"  Nat 
insisted.  "  I  don't  see  as  how  it  can  be  your  duty  to 
hand  over  your  company  to  the  French  if  you  can  get 
them  clear  away  so  as  to  fight  for  the  king  again." 

"What  do  you  say,  Edwards?"  James  asked  his 
lieutenant. 

"  I  don't  see  why  we  shouldn't  march  away  if  we 
could,"  Edwards  said.  "  Now  that  the  game  is  quite 
lost  here  I  don't  think  anyone  could  blame  you  for  saving 
the  company  if  possible,  and  I  agree  with  Nat  that  Mont- 
calm will  find  it  difficult,  if  not  impossible,  to  keep  his 
Indians  in  hand ;  the  French  never  troubled  much  on  that 
score." 

"Well,  Nat,  what  is  your  plan?"  James  asked  after 
a  pause. 

"  The  plan  is  simple  enough,"  Nat  said ;  "  there  aint 
no  plan  at  all.  All  we  have  got  to  do  is  to  march  quietly 
down  to  the  lake,  to  take  some  of  the  canoes  that  are 
hauled  up  at  the  mouth  of  the  swamp,  and  to  paddle 
quietly  oflf,  keeping  under  the  trees  on  the  ri^ht-hand 
side.  There  aint  many  redskins  in  the  woods  that  way, 
and  the  night  is  as  dark  as  pitch.  We  can  land  eight  or 
ten  miles  down  the  lake  and  then  march  away  to  the 
right  so  as  to  get  clean  round  the  redskins  altogether." 

"Very  well,  Nat,  1  will  do  it,"  James  said;  "it's  a 
chance,  but  I  think  it's  a  better  chance  than  staying  here, 


tiffi  MASSACRfe  At  F6kT  WILLIAM  HENftV.        i4^ 

and  if  I  should  get  into  a  row  about  it  I  can't  help  it; 
I  am  doing  it  for  the  best." 

The  corps  were  quietly  mustered  and  marched  out 
through  the  gate  of  the  intrenchments  on  the  side  of  the 
lake. 

No  questions  were  asked,  for  the  corps  had  several 
times  gone  out  on  its  own  account  and  driven  back  the 
Indians  and  French  pickets.  The  men  had  from  their 
first  arrival  at  the  fort  laid  aside  their  heavy  boots  and 
taken  to  moccasins  as  being  better  fitted  for  silent  move- 
ment in  the  forest.  Therefore  not  a  sound  was  heard 
as  under  Nat's  guidance  they  made  their  way  down  the 
slope  into  the  swamp.  Here  they  were  halted  for  the 
moment  and  told  to  move  with  the  greatest  care  and 
silence  and  to  avoid  snapping  a  bough  or  twig.  This, 
however,  was  the  less  important  as  the  cannon  on  both 
sides  were  still  firing  and  a  constant  rattle  of  musketry 
was  going  on  around  the  fort. 

Presently  they  reached  the  point  where  the  canoes 
were  hauled  up  and  were  told  oft  three  to  a  canoe. 

"  Follow  my  canoe  in  single  file,"  James  said;  "  not  a 
word  is  to  be  spoken,  and  remember  that  a  single  splash 
of  a  paddle  will  bring  the  redskins  down  upon  us;  likely 
enough  there  may  be  canoes  out  upon  the  lake — there 
are  sure  to  be  Indians  in  the  wood." 

"  I  don't  think  there's  much  fear,  captain,"  Nat  whis- 
pered. "  There's  no  tiring  a  redskin  when  he's  out  on 
the  scout  on  his  own  account,  but  when  he's  acting  with 
the  whites  he's  just  as  lazy  as  a  hog,  and  as  they  must  be 
sure  the  fort  can't  hold  out  many  hours  longer  they  will 
be  too  busy  feasting  and  counting  the  scalps  they  mean 
to  take  to  think  much  about  scouting  to-night." 

**  We  shall  go  very  slowly ;  let  every  man  stop  paddling 
the  instant  the  canoe  ahead  of  him  stops,"  were  James' 
last  instructions  as  he  stepped  into  the  stern  of  a  canoe, 
while  Nat  and  Jonathan  took  the  paddles.  Edwards 
was  to  take  his  place  in  the  last  canoe  in  the  line. 

Without  the  slightest  sound  the  canoes  paddled  out 
into  the  lake  and  then  made  for  the  east  shore,    Thty 


f'm'i 


I!' 


t  " 


M  .'■ : 


'^l 


^4^ 


With  woLfe  m  Canada. 


were  soon  close  to  the  trees,  and  slowly  and  noiselessly 
they  kept  their  way  jast  outside  the  screen  afforded  by 
the  boughs  drooping  down  almost  into  the  water.  Only 
now  and  then  the  slightest  splash  was  to  be  heard  along 
the  line,  and  this  might  well  have  been  taken  for  the 
spring  of  a  tiny  fish  feeding. 

Several  times  when  he  thought  he  heard  a  slight 
sound  in  the  forest  on  his  right  Nat  ceased  paddling  and 
lay  for  some  minutes  motionless,  the  canoes  behind  doing 
the  same.  So  dark  was  it  that  they  could  scarce  see  the 
trees  close  beside  them,  while  the  bright  flashes  from 
the  guns  from  fort  and  batteries  only  seemed  to  make  the 
darkness  more  intense.  It  was  upward  of  an  hour  before 
James  felt  from  the  greater  speed  with  which  the  canoe 
was  traveling  that  Nat  believed  that  he  had  got  beyond 
the  spot  where  any  Indians  were  likely  to  be  watching 
in  the  forest. 

Faster  and  faster  the  boat  glided  along,  but  the  scouts 
were  still  far  from  rowing  their  hardest.  For  although 
the  whole  of  the  men  were  accustomed  to  the  use  of  the 
paddle  the  other  boats  would  be  unable  to  keep  up  with 
that  driven  by  the  practiced  arms  of  the  leaders  of  the 
file.  After  paddling  for  another  hour  and  a  half  the 
scout  stopped. 

"  We  are  far  enough  away  now,"  Nat  said ;  "  there 
aint  no  chance  in  the  world  of  any  redskins  being  in  the 
woods  so  far  out  as  this;  the  hope  of  scalps  will  have 
taken  them  all  down  close  to  the  fort.  We  can  land 
safely  now." 

The  word  was  passed  down  the  line  of  canoes,  the  boats 
glided  through  the  screen  of  foliage  and  the  men  landed. 

"  Better  pull  the  canoes  ashore,  captain.  If  we  left 
them  in  che  water  one  might  break  adrift  and  float  out 
beyond  the  trees.  Some  redskin  or  other  would  make 
it  out,  and  we  should  have  a  troop  of  them  on  our  trail 
before  an  hour  had  passed." 

"  There's  no  marching  through  the  forest  now,  Nskt," 
James  said.  "  I  can't  see  my  own  hand  close  to  my 
face." 


THE   MASSACRE   AT    FORT    WILLIAM    HENkY. 


249 


the 


"That's  so,  captain,  and  we'd  best  halt  till  daylight. 
I  could  make  my  way  along  easy  enough,  but  some  of 
these  fellows  would  be  pitching  over  stumps  or  catching 
their  feet  in  a  creeper,  and  like  enough  letting  off  their 
pieces  as  they  went  down.  We  may  just  as  well  stay 
where  we  are;  they  aint  likely  to  miss  us  even  in  the 
camp,  and  sartin  the  redskins  can't  have  known  we  have 
gone.  So  there's  no  chance  whatever  of  pursuit,  and 
there  aint  nothing  to  be  gained  by  making  haste." 

James  gave  the  orddr.  The  men  felt  about  till  each 
found  a  space  of  ground  sufficiently  large  to  lie  down 
upon,  and  soon  all  were  asleep  except  the  two  scouts, 
who  said  at  once  that  they  would  watch  by  turns  till , 
daylight.  As  soon  as  it  was  sufficiently  light  to  see  in 
the  forest  the  band  were  again  in  motion.  They  made 
due  east  until  they  crossed  the  trail  leading  from  the 
head  of  Lake  Champlain  to  Fort  Edward,  kept  on  for 
another  hour,  and  then  turning  to  the  south  made  in 
the  direction  of  Albany,  for  it  would  have  been  danger- 
ous to  approach  Fort  Edward,  around  which  th^  Indians 
were  sure  to  be  scattered  thickly. 

For  the  first  two  hours  after  starting  the  distant  roar 
of  the  guns  had  gone  on  unceasingly;  then  it  suddenly 
stopped. 

"They  have  hoisted  the  white  flag,"  Edwards  said. 
"  It  is  all  over.  Thank  God,  we  are  well  out  of  it !  I 
don't  mi-  d  fighting,  Walsham,  but  to  be  massacred  by 
those  Indians  is  a  hideous  idea." 

"  I  am  glad  we  are  out  of  it,  too,"  James  agreed ;  "  but 
I  cannot  think  that  Montcalm  with  so  large  a  force  of 
French  regulars  at  his  command  will  allow  those  fiendish 
Indians  to  massacre  the  prisoners." 

"  I  hope  not,"  Edwards  said.  "  It  will  be  a  disgrace 
indeed  to  him  and  his  officers  if  he  does;  but  you  know 
what  the  Indians  are  better  than  I  do,  and  you  have 
heard  Nat's  opinion.  You  see  if  Montcalm  were  to  use 
force  against  the  Indians  the  whole  of  them  would  go  off, 
and  then  there  would  be  an  end  to  any  hope  of  the 
French  beating  the  colpnists  in  the  long  run.    Mont- 


i> 


'  ! 


350 


WITH  WOLFE  IN  CANADA. 


calm  daren't  break  with  them.  It's  a  horrible  position 
for  an  officer  and  a  gentleman  to  be  placed  in.  Mont- 
calm did  manage  to  prevent  the  redskins  from  mas- 
sacring the  garrison  of  Oswego,  but  it  was  as  much  as 
he  could  do,  and  it  will  be  ten  times  as  difficult  now  that 
their  blood  is  up  with  this  week  of  hard  fighting  and  the 
loss  of  many  of  their  warriors.  Anyhow,  I  am  glad  I 
am  out  of  it,  even  if  the  big-wigs  consider  we  had  no 
right  to  leave  the  fort  and  break  us  for  it.  I  would 
rather  lose  my  commission  than  run  the  risk  of  being 
massacred  in  cold  blood." 

James  agreed  with  him. 

For  two  days  they  continued  their  march  through  the 
forest,  using  every  precaution  against  surprise.  They 
saw,  however,  nothing  of  the  enemy,  and  emerged  from 
the  forest  on  the  evening  of  the  second  day's  march  at 
a  distance  of  a  few  miles  from  Albany. 

They  had  not  reached  that  town  many  hours  when 
they  learned  that  Nat's  somber  predictions  had  been  ful- 
filled. The  council  of  war  in  the  fort  agreed  that  further 
resistance  was  impossible,  and  Lieutenant-Colonel  Young 
went  out  with  a  white  flag  to  arrange  the  terms  of  sur- 
render with  Montcalm.  It  was  agreed  that  the  English 
troops  should  march  out  with  the  honors  of  war  and  be 
escorted  to  Fort  Edward  by  a  detachment  of  French 
troops,  that  they  should  not  serve  for  eighteen  months, 
and  that  all  French  prisoners  captured  in  America  since 
the  war  began  should  be  given  up  within  three  months. 

The  stores,  ammunition,  and  artillery  were  to  be 
handed  over  to  the  French,  except  one  field-piece  which 
the  garrison  were  to  be  allowed  to  retain  in  recognition 
of  their  brave  defense.  Before  signing  the  capitulation 
Montcalm  summoned  the  Indian  chiefs  before  him  and 
asked  them  to  consent  to  the  conditions  and  to  restrain 
their  young  braves  from  any  disorder.  They  gave  their 
approval,  and  promised  to  maintain  order. 

The  garrison  then  evacuated  the  fort  and  marched  to 
join  their  comrades  in  the  intrenched  camp.  No  sooner 
had  they  moved  out  than  a  crowd  of  Indians  rushed  into 


THE  MASSACRE  AT  PORT   WILLIAM  HENRY.         25 1 

the  fort  through  the  breach  and  embrasures  and  butch- 
ered all  the  wounded  who  had  been  left  behind  to  be 
cared  for  by  the  French.  Having  committed  this 
atrocity  the  Indians  and  many  of  the  Canadians  rushed 
up  to  the  intrenched  camp  where  the  English  were  now 
collected.  The  French  guards  who  had  been  stationed 
there  did  nothing  to  keep  them  out;  and  they  wandered 
about  threatening  and  insulting  the  terrified  women,  tell- 
ing the  men  that  everyone  should  be  massacred,  and 
plundering  the  baggage. 

Montcalm  did  his  best  by  entreaty  to  restrain  the 
Indians,  but  he  took  nc>  steps  whatever  to  give  effectual 
protection  to  the  prisoners,  and  that  he  did  not  do  so 
will  remain  an  ineffaceable  blot  upon  his  fame.  Seeing 
the  disposition  of  the  redskins  he  should  have  ordered  up 
all  the  regular  French  troops  and  marched  the  English 
garrison  under  their  protection  to  Fort  Edward  in  ac- 
cordance with  the  terms  of  surrender;  and  he  should 
have  allowed  the  English  troops  to  again  fill  their 
pouches  with  cartridge,  by  which  means  they  would  have 
been  able  to  fight  in  their  own  defense. 

The  next  morning  the  English  marched  at  daybreak. 
Seventeen  wounded  men  were  left  behind  in  the  huts, 
having  been,  in  accordance  with  the  agreement,  handed 
over  to  the  charge  of  the  French  surgeon,  but  as  he  was 
not  there  in  the  morning  the  regimental  surgeon.  Miles 
Whitworth,  remained  with  them,  attending  to  their 
wants.  The  French  surgeon  had  caused  special  senti- 
nels to  be  placed  for  their  protection,  but  these  were  now 
removed  when  they  wer^  needed  most. 

At  five  in  the  morning  the  Indians  entered  the  huts, 
dragged  out  the  inmates,  tomahawked  and  scalped  them 
before  the  eyes  of  Whitworth,  and  in  the  presence  of 
La  Corne  and  other  Canadian  officers,  as  well  as  of  a 
French  guard  stationed  within  forty  feet  of  the  spot — 
none  of  whom,  as  Whitworth  declared  on  oath,  did  any- 
thing to  protect  the  wounded  men. 

The  Indians  in  the  meantime  had  begun  to  plunder  the 
baggage  of  the  splumn.    Monro  complained  to  the 


Vi: 


1: 


It''    i 


il 


,( • 


H 

i  i 

r  ■ 

,; 

'I 

I  1 ; 

■^ 

t.  i  ■ 

1 

r ' 

•5. 

;  i 


;J' 


■«"■> 


npi 


niPHp 


■m 


252 


WITH  WOLFE  m  CANADA. 


officers  of  the  French  escort  that  the  terms  of  the  capitu- 
lation were  broken ;  but  the  only  answer  was  that  he  had 
better  give  up  all  the  baggage  to  the  Indians  to  appease 
them.  But  it  had  no  effect  in  restraining  the  passion  of 
the  Indians;  they  rushed  upon  the  column,  snatching 
caps,  coats,  and  weapons  from  men  and  officers,  toma- 
hawking all  who  resisted,  and  seizing  upon  shrieking 
women  and  children,  carried  them  away  or  murdered 
them  on  the  spot.  A  rush  was  made  upon  the  New 
Hampshire  men  at  the  rear  of  the  column,  and  eighty 
of  them  were  killed  or  carried  away. 

The  Canadian  officers  did  nothing  at  all  to  try  to 
assuage  the  fury  of  the  Indians,  and  the  officers  of  the 
Canadian  detachment,  which  formed  the  advance  guard 
of  the  French  escort,  refused  any  protection  to  the  men, 
telling  them  they  had  better  take  to  the  woods  and  shift 
for  themselves.  Montcalm  and  the  principal  French 
officers  did  everything  short  of  the  only  effectual  step, 
namely,  the  ordering  up  of  the  French  regular  troops 
to  save  the  English.  They  ran  about  among  the  yelling 
Indians  imploring  them  to  desist,  but  in  vain. 

Some  700  or  800  of  the  English  were  seized  and 
carried  off  by  the  savages,  while  some  70  or  80  were 
massacred  on  the  spot.  The  column  attempted  no  re- 
sistance, none  had  ammunition,  and  of  the  colonial  troops 
very  few  were  armed  with  bayonets.  Had  any  resistance 
been  offered,  there  can  be  no  doubt  all  would  have  been 
massacred  by  the  Indians. 

Many  of  the  fugitives  ran  back  to  the  fort  and  took 
refuge  there,  and  Montcalm  recovered  from  the  Indians 
more  than  400  of  those  they  Had  carried  off.  These 
were  all  sent  under  a  strong  guard  to  Fort  Edward. 
The  greater  part  of  the  survivors  of  the  column  dispersed 
into  the  woods,  and  made  their  way  in  scattered  parties 
to  Fort  Edward.  Here  cannon  had  been  fired  at  inter- 
vals to  serve  as  a  guide  to  the  fugitives,  but  many  no 
doubt  perished  in  the  woods. 

On  the  morning  after  the  massacre  the  Indians  left  in 
{I  body  for  Montreal,  taking  with  them  200  prisoners  to 


THE  MASSACRE   AT   FORT    WiLLtAM   HENRV.         25 J 


be  tortured  and  murdered  on  their  re  Urn  to  their 
villages. 

Few  events  cast  a  deeper  disgrace  on  the  arms  of 
France  than  this  massacre,  committed  in  defiance  of  their 
pledged  honor  for  the  safety  of  their  prisoners,  2fhd  in 
sight  of  4000  French  troops,  not  a  man  of  whom  was 
set  in  motion  to  prevent  it.  These  facts  are  not  taken 
only  from  English  sources,  but  from  the  letters  of 
French  officers,  and  from  the  journal  of  the  Jesuit  Rou- 
baud,  who  was  in  charge  of  the  Christianized  Indians, 
who,  according  to  his  own  accour  t,  were  no  less  ferocious 
and  cruel  than  the  unconverted  tribes. 

The  number  of  those  who  perished  in  the  massacre  is 
uncertain.  Captain  Jonathan  Cancer,  a  colonial  officer, 
puts  the  killed  and  captured  at  1500.  A  French  writer, 
whose  work  was  published  at  Montreal,  says  that  they 
were  all  killed,  except  700  who  were  captured,  but  this 
is,  of  course,  a  gross  exaggeration.  General  Levis  and 
Roubaud,  who  were  certain  to  have  made  the  best  of  the 
matter,  acknowledged  that  they  saw  some  fifty  corpses 
scattered  on  the  ground,  but  this  does  not  include  those 
murdered  in  the  fort  and  camp. 

Probably  the  total  number  killed  was  about  200, 
and  besides  these  must  be  counted  the  200  prisoners 
carried  off  to  be  tortured  by  the  Indians.  The  greater 
portion  of  these  were  purchased  from  the  Indians  in 
exchange  for  rum  by  Vaudreuil,  the  governor  of  Mon- 
treal; but  to  the  eternal  disgrace  of  this  man  he  suffered 
many  of  them  to  be  carried  off,  and  did  not  even  inter- 
fere when  publicly  in  the  sight  of  the  whole  town  the 
Indians  murdered  some  of  the  prisoners,  and,  not  con- 
tent with  eating  them  themselves,  forced  their  comrades 
to  partake  of  the  flesh.  Bouganville,  one  of  the  aids-de- 
camp to  Montcalm,  was  present,  and  testified  to  the  fact, 
and  the  story  is  confirxTied  by  the  intendant  Bigot,  a 
friend  of  the  governor.  The  ferocity  of  the  Indians  cost 
them  dear.  They  had  dug  up  and  scalped  the  corpses 
in  the  graveyard  of  Fort  William  Henry.  Many  of  these 
had  died  of  small-pox,  and  the  savages  took  the  infection 


Si 


4 


r 


.■'■,"a^jyfvijr 


254 


WITH  WOLFE  IM  CANADA. 


home  to  their  villages,  where  great  numbers  perished 
of  the  disease. 

As  soon  as  their  Indian  allies  had  left,  the  French 
soldiers  were  set  to  work  demolishing  the  English  fort, 
and  the  operation  was  completed  by  the  destruction  by 
fire  of  the  remains.  The  army  then  returned  to  Crown 
Point. 

In  view  of  the  gross  breach  of  the  articles  of  capitula- 
tion by  the  French,  the  English  government  refused  also 
to  be  bound  by  it,  and  the  French  prisoners  in  their 
hands  were  accordingly  retained.  Colonel  Monro  him- 
self was  one  of  those  who  survived.  He  had  made  his 
way  through  the  savages  back  to  the  fort  to  demand  that 
the  protection  of  the  French  troops  should  be  given  to 
the  soldiers,  and  so  escaped  the  massacre. 

Upon  his  arrival  a<-  Albany,  James  reported  to  the 
officer  in  command  there  the  reasons  which  had  induced 
him  to  quit  the  fort  with  his  company.  These  reasons 
were  approved  of,  but  the  officer  advised  James  to  send 
in  a  written  report  to  General  Webb,  and  to  march  at 
once  to  Fort  Edward  and  place  himself  under  that 
officer's  directions. 

When  he  reached  the  fort  the  fugitives  were  coming 
in  from  the  woods.  James  at  once  reported  himself  to 
the  general,  and  handed  in  his  written  statement.  At 
the  same  time  he  gave  his  reasons  in  a  few  words  for  the 
course  he  had  taken.  Webb  was  far  too  much  excited 
by  the  news  of  the  terrible  events  which  had  taken  place, 
and  for  which,  as  he  could  not  but  be  aware,  he  would 
be  to  some  extent  held  responsible  by  public  opinion 
for  having  refused  to  move  to  Monro's  assistance,  to  pay 
much  attention  to  the  young  officer's  statement. 

"  You  were  quite  right,  sir,  quite  right  to  carry  oflF 
your  command,"  he  said  hastily.  "  Thank  God  there 
are  so  many  the  fewer  of  His  Majesty's  troops  sacrificed! 
You  will  please  take  your  company  out  at  once  into  the 
woods,  they  are  accustomed  to  the  work,  which  is  more 
than  any  of  my  troops  here  are;  divide  them  into  four 
parties,  and  let  them  scour  the  forest  and  bring  in  such 


"■P"<«1 


tHft  MASSACRE  At  P6RT  WitLlAM  HtHRY.         2^5 

of  th€  fugitives  as  they  can  find.  Let  them  take  as  much 
provision  and  rum  as  they  can  carry,  for  many  of  the 
fugitives  will  be  starving." 

James  executed  his  orders,  and  during  the  next  five 
days  sent  in  a  considerable  number  of  exhausted  men, 
who,  hopelessly  lost  in  the  woods,  must  have  perished 
unless  they  had  been  discovered  by  his  party. 

Had  Montcalm  marched  direct  upon  Fort  Edward  he 
could  doubtless  have  captured  it,  for  the  fall  of  Fort 
William  Henry  had  so  scared  Webb  that  he  would 
probably  have  retreated  the  moment  he  heard  the  news 
of  Montcalm's  advance,  although  within  a  day  or  two  of 
the  fall  of  the  fort  many  thousands  of  colonial  militia 
had  arrived.  As  soon,  however,  as  it  was  known  that 
Montcalm  had  retired,  the  militia,  who  were  altogether 
unsupplied  with  the  means  of  keeping  the  field,  returned 
to  their  homes. 

Loudon,  on  his  way  back  from  the  unsuccessful 
expedition  against  Louisbourg,  received  the  news  of  the 
calamity  at  Fort  William  Henry.  He  returned  too  late 
to  do  anything  to  retrieve  that  disaster,  and  determined 
in  the  spring  to  take  the  offensive  by  attacking  Ticon- 
deroga.  This  had  been  left  on  the  retirement  of  Mont- 
calm with  a  small  garrison  commanded  by  Captain 
Hepecourt,  who,  during  the  winter,  was  continually 
harrassed  by  the  corps  of  Captain  Rogers  and  James 
Walsham's  scouts. 

Toward  the  spring,  receiving  reinforcements,  Hepe- 
court caught  Rogers  and  180  men  in  an  ambush,  and 
killed  almost  all  of  them,  Rogers  himself  and  some  20  or 
30  men  alone  escaping.  In  the  spring  there  was  a  fresh 
change  of  plans,  the  expedition  against  Ticonderoga  was 
given  up,  as  another  attempt  at  Louisbourg  was  about 
to  be  made. 

The  English  government  were  determined  that  the 
disastrous  delays  which  had  caused  the  failure  of  the  - 
last  expedition  should  not  be  repeated.     Loudon  was 
recalled,  and  to  General  Abercrombie,  the  second  in  com- 
mand, was  intrusted  the  charge  of  the  i  rces  in  the  colo- 


n 


,!'      < 


i  I 


• 


/   H 


f 


vi 


'  / 


',  (■ 


1^' 


I 


n^ 


WITH  woLtfi  IK  Canada. 


nies.  Colonel  Amherst  was  raised  to  the  rank  of  major- 
general,  and  appointed  to  command  the  expedition  from 
England  against  Louisbourg,  having  under  him  Briga- 
dier-Generals Whitmore,  Lawrence,  and  Wolf  j.  Before 
the  winter  was  ended  two  fleets  put  to  sea;  the  one,  under 
Admiral  Boscawen,  was  destined  for  Louisbourg;  while 
the  other,  under  Admiral  Osborne,  sailed  for  the  Straits 
of  Gibraltar  to  intercept  the  French  fleet  of  Admiral  La 
Clue,  which  was  about  to  sail  from  Toulon  for  America. 
At  the  same  time  Sir  Edward  Hawke  with  seven  ships 
of  the  line  and  three  frigates  sailed  for  Rochefort,  where 
a  French  squadron  with  a  fleet  of  transports  with  troops 
for  America  were  lying.  The  two  latter  expeditions 
were  perfectly  successful.  Osborne  prevented  La  Clue 
from  leaving  the  Mediteranean.  Hawke  drove  the 
enemy's  vessels  ashore  at  Rochefort,  and  completely 
broke  up  the  expedition.  Thus  Canada  at  the  critical 
period,  when  the  English  were  preparing  to  strike  a  great 
blow  at  her,  was  cut  off  from  all  assistance  from  the 
mother  country  and  left  to  her  own  resources.  As 
before,  Halifax  was  the  spot  where  the  troops  from  the 
colonies  were  to  meet  the  fleet  from  England  and  the 
troops  who  came  out  under  their  convoy,  and  here  on 
the  28th  of  May  the  whole  expedition  was  collected. 

The  colonies  had  again  been  partially  stripped  of 
their  defenders,  and  500  provincial  rangers  accompanied 
the  regulars.  James  Walsham's  corps  was  left  for 
service  on  the  frontier,  while  the  regiments  to  which 
they  belonged  sailed  with  the  force  destined  for  the  siege 
of  Louisbourg.  This  fortress  stood  at  the  mouth  of  a 
land-locked  bay  on  the  stormy  coast  of  Cape  Breton. 
Since  the  peace  of  Aix-la-Chapelle  vast  sums  had  been 
spent  in  repairing  and  strengthening  it,  and  it  was  by 
far  the  strongest  fortress  in  English  or  French  America. 

The  circuit  of  its  fortifications  was  more  than  a  mile 
and  a  half,  and  the  town  contained  about  4000  in- 
habitants. The  garrison  consisted  of  the  battalions  of 
Artois,  Bourgogne,  Cambis,  and  Volontaires  Etrangers, 
y^h  two  companies  of  artillery  and  twenty-four  of  colo- 


■K; 


tOUISBOURO  AND  TICONDEROGA. 


«57 


nial  troops,  in  all  3080  men  besides  officers.  In  the 
harbor  lay  five  ships  of  the  line  and  seven  frigates,  carry- 
ing 544  guns  and  about  3000  men,  and  there  were  219 
cannons  and  17  mortars  mounted  on  the  ramparts  and 
outworks,  and  44  in  reserve.  Of  the  outworks  the 
strongest  were  the  grand  battery  at  Lighthouse  Point 
at  the  mouth  of  the  harbor,  and  that  on  Goat  Island,  a 
rocky  islet  at  its  entrance. 

The  strongest  front  of  the  works  was  on  the  land  side 
across  the  base  of  the  triangular  peninsula  on  which  the 
town  stood.  This  front,  twelve  hundred  yards  in  extent, 
reached  from  the  sea  on  the  left  to  the  harbor  on  the 
right,  and  consisted  of  four  strong  bastions  with  connect- 
ing works.  The  best  defense  of  Louisbourg,  however, 
was  the  craggy  shore,  which  for  leagues  on  either  side 
was  accessible  only  at  a  few  points,  and  even  there  a 
landing  could  only  be  effected  with  the  greatest 
difficulty. 

All  these  points  were  watched,  for  an  English  squad- 
ron of  nine  ships  of  war  had  been  cruising  off  the  place, 
endeavoring  to  prevent  supplies  from  arriving;  but  they 
had  been  so  often  blown  off  by  gales  that  the  French 
ships  had  been  able  to  enter,  and  on  the  26.  of  June,  when 
the  English  expedition  came  in  sight,  more  than  a  year's 
supply  of  proviiiions  was  stored  up  in  the  town.. 


CHAPTER  XVII. 


i 


I 


f 


11 


LOUISBOURG  AND  TICONDEROGA. 


All  eyes  in  the  fleet  were  directed  toward  the  rocky 
shore  of  Gabarus  Bay,  a  flat  indentation  some  three 
miles  across  its  eastern  extremity,  White  Point,  being  a 
mile  to  the  west  of  Louisbourg.  The  sea  was  rough, 
and  the  white  masses  of  surf  were  thrown  high  up  upon 
the  face  of  the  rock  along  the  coa^t  jas  f^  as  vhe  e^^ 
ppuld  rea<:h/ 


»58 


WITH   WOLFE   IN   CANADA. 


A  more  difficult  coast  on  which  to  effect  a  landing 
could  not  have  been  selected.  There  were  but  three 
points  where  boats  could  even  in  fine  weather  get  to 
shore — namely,  White  Point,  Flat  Point,  and  Fresh 
Water  Cove.  To  cover  these  the  French  had  erected 
several  batteries,  and  as  soon  as  the  English  fleet  was  in 
sight  they  made  vigorous  preparations  to  repel  a  landing. 
Boats  were  at  once  lowered  in  order  to  make  a  recon- 
naisance  of  the  shore.  Generals  Amherst,  Lawrence, 
and  Wolfe  all  took  part  in  it,  and  a  number  of  naval 
officers  in  their  boats  daringly  approached  the  shore  to 
almost  within  musket-shot. 

When  they  returned  in  the  afternoon  they  made  their 
reports  to  the  admiral,  and  these  reports  all  agreed  with 
his  own  opinion — namely,  that  there  was  but  little 
chance  of  success.  One  naval  captain  alone,  an  old 
officer  named  Fergusson,  advised  the  admiral  to  hold  no 
council  of  war,  but  to  take  the  responsibility  on  himself 
and  to  make  the  attempt  at  all  risks. 
«  "  Why  admiral,"  he  said,  *'  the  very  children  at  h>dme 
would  laugh  at  us  if  for  a  second  time  we  sailed  here 
with  an  army  and  then  sailed  away  again  without  landing 
a  man." 

"  So  they  would,  Fergusson,  so  they  would,"  the 
admiral  said.  "  If  I  have  to  stop  here  till  winter  I  won't 
go  till  I  have  carried  out  my  orders  and  put  the  troops 
ashore." 

In  addition  to  the  three  possible  landing  places  already 
named,  was  one  to  the  east  of  the  town  named  Loram- 
bec,  and  it  was  determined  to  send  a  regiment  to  threaten 
a  landing  at  this  place,  while  the  army,  formed  into  three 
divisions,  were  to  threaten  the  other  points  and  effect 
a  landing  af  one  or  all  of  them  if  it  should  be  found 
possible. 

On  the  next  day,  however,  the  3d  of  June,  the  surf  was 
so  high  that  nothing  could  be  attempted.  On  the  4th 
there  was  a  thick  fog  and  a  gale,  and  the  frigate  Trent 
struck  on  a  rock,  and  some  of  the  transports  were  nearly 
blown  on  shore.    The  sea  was  very  heavy,  and  the  vessels 


m 


LOUISBOURO   AND  TICONDEROGA. 


259 


rolled  tremend  )usly  at  their  anchors.  Most  of  the 
troops  suffered  terribly  from  sea-sickness.  The  next 
day  the  weather  continued  thick  and  stormy.  On  the 
6th  there-  was  fog,  but  toward  noon  the  wind  went 
down,  whereupon  the  signal  was  made,  the  boats  were 
lowered,  and  the  troops  took  their  places  in  them. 

Scarcely  had  they  done  so  when  the  wind  rose  again, 
and  the  sea  got  up  so  rapidly  that  the  lauding  was  post- 
poned. The  next  day  the  fog  and  heavy  surf  continued, 
but  in  the  evening  the  sea  grew  calmer,  and  orders  were 
issued  for  the  troops  to  take  to  the  boats  at  two  o'clock 
next  morning.  This  was  done,  and  the  frigates  got 
under  sail,  and  steered  for  the  four  points  at  which  the 
real  or  pretended  attacks  were  to  be  made,  and,  anchor- 
ing within  easy  range,  opened  fire  soon  after  daylight, 
while  the  boats  in  three  divisions  rowed  toward  the 
shore. 

The  division  under  Wolfe  consisted  of  twelve  com-, 
panics  of  Grenadiers,  with  the  Light  Infantry,  Eraser's 
Highlanders,  and  the  New  England  Rangers.  Fresh 
Water  Cove  was  a  crescent-shaped  beach  a  quarter  of  a 
mile  long,  with  rocks  at  each  end.  On  the  shore 
above  lay  looo  Frenchmen  under  Lieutenant-Colonel 
De  St.  Julien,  with  eight  cannons  on  swivels  planted  to 
sweep  every  part  of  the  beach.  The  intrenchments 
behind  which  the  troops  were  lying  were  covered  in  front 
by  spruce  and  fir  trees  felled  and  laid  on  the  ground  with 
the  tops  outward. 

Not  a  shot  was  fired  until  the  English  boats  ap- 
proached the  beach;  then  from  behind  the  leafy  screen 
a  deadly  storm  of  grape  and  musketry  was  poured  upon 
them.  It  was  clear  at  once  that  to  advance  would  be 
destruction,  and  Wolfe  waved  his  hand  as  a  signal  to  the 
boats  to  sheer  off.  On  the  right  of  the  line,  and  but 
little  exposed  to  the  fire,  were  three  boats  of  the  Light 
Infantry  under  Lieutenants  Hopkins  and  Brown  and 
Ensign  Grant,  who,  mistaking  the  signal,  or  willfully  mis- 
interpreting it,  dashed  for  the  shore  directly  before  them. 
It  was  a  hundred  yards  or  so  east  of  the  beach— a  craggy 


;  ■ 


^ 


i 


■i'l 
111 


^ 


d6o 


WITH   WOLFE  IN  CANADA. 


coast,  lashed  by  the  breakers,  but  sheltered  from  the 
cannon  by  a  small  projecting  point. 

The  three  young  officers  leaped  ashore,  followed  by 
their  men.  Major  Scott,  who  commanded  the  Light 
Infantry  and  Rangers,  was  in  the  next  boat,  and  at  once 
followed  the  others,  putting  his  boat's  head  straight  to 
the  shore.  The  boat  was  crushed  to  pieces  against  the 
rocks;  some  of  the  men  were  drowned,  but  the  rest 
scrambled  up  the  rocks  and  joined  those  who  had  first 
landed.  They  were  instantly  attacked  by  the  French, 
and  half  of  the  little  party  were  killed  or  wounded  before 
the  rest  of  the  division  could  come  to  their  assistance. 

Some  of  the  boats  were  upset  and  others  stove  in,  but 
most  of  the  men  scrambled  ashore,  and  ai  soon  as  he 
landed  Wolfe  led  them  up  the  rocks,  wherv  .hey  formed 
in  compact  order  and  carried  with  the  bayonet  the 
nearest  French  battery.  The  other  divisions,  seeing 
that  Wolfe  had  effected  a  landing,  came  rapidly  up,  and 
as  the  French  attention  was  now  distracted  by  Wolfe's 
attack  on  the  left,  Amherst  and  Lawrence  were  able  to 
land  at  the  other  end  of  the  beach,  and  with  their 
divisions  attacked  the  French  on  the  right.  These, 
assaulted  on  both  sides,  and  fearing  to  be  cut  oflf  from 
the  town,  abandoned  their  cannon  and  fled  into  the 
woods.  Some  70  of  them  were  taken  prisoners  and 
50  killed.  The  rest  made  their  way  through  the  woods 
and  marshes  to  Louisbourg,  and  the  French  in  the  other 
batteries  commanding  the  landing  places,  seeing  that  the 
English  were  now  firmly  established  on  the  shore,  also 
abandoned  the  positions  and  retreated  to  the  town. 

General  Amherst  established  the  English  camp  jurt 
beyond  the  range  of  the  cannon  on  the  ramparts,  and  the 
fleet  set  to  work  to  land  guns  and  stores  at  Flat  Point 
Cove.  For  some  days  this  work  went  on ;  but  so  violent 
was  the  surf  that  more  than  a  hundred  boats  were  stove 
in  in  accomplishing  it,  and  none  of  the  siege  guns  could 
be  landed  till  the  i8th.  While  the  sailors  were  so  en- 
gaged the  troops  were  busy  making  roads  and  throwin|f 
up  redoubts  to  protect  their  positipo,    - 


LOUtSBOURG   AND  TICONDEROGA. 


d6l 


Wolfe,  with  1 200  men,  made  his  way  right  round  the 
harbor  and  took  possession  of  the  battery  at  Lighthouse 
Point  which  the  French  had  abandoned,  planted  gims  and 
mortars  there,  and  opened  fire  on  the  battery  on  the  islet 
which  guarded  the  entrance  to  the  harbor,  while  other 
batteries  were  raised  at  different  points  along  the  shore 
and  opened  fire  upon  the  French  ships.  These  replied, 
and  the  artillery  duel  went  on  night  and  day,  until,  on 
the  25th,  the  battery  on  the  islet  was  silenced. 

Leaving  a  portion  of  his  force  in  the  batteries  he  had 
erected,  Wolfe  returned  to  the  main  army  in  front  of  the 
town.  In  the  mean  time  Amherst  had  not  been  idle. 
Day  and  night  1000  men  had  been  employed  mak- 
ing a  covered  road  across  a  swamp  to  a  hillock  less 
than  half  a  mile  from  the  ramparts.  The  labor  was 
immense,  and  the  troops  worked  knee  deep  in  mud  and 
water. 

When  Wolfe  had  silenced  the  battery  on  the  islet  the 
way  was  open  for  the  English  fleet  to  enter  and  engage 
the  ships  and  town  from  the  harbor,  but  the  French  took 
advantage  of  a  dark  and  foggy  night  and  sank  six  ships 
across  the  entrance.  On  the  25th  the  troops  had  made 
the  road  to  the  hillock  and  began  to  fortify  themselves 
there  under  a  heavy  fire  from  the  French;  while  on  the 
left,  toward  the  sea,  about  a  third  of  a  mile  from  the  Prin- 
cess' Bastion,  Wolfe,  with  a  strong  detachment,  began  to 
throw  up  a  redoubt. 

On  the  night  of  the  9th  of  July  600  French  troops 
sallied  out  and  attacked  this  work.  The  English,  though 
fighting  desperately,  were  for  a  time  driven  back;  but 
being  reinforced,  they  drove  the  French  back  into  the 
town.  Each  day  the  English  lines  drew  closer  to  the 
town.  The  French  frigate  Echo,  under  cover  of  a  fog, 
had  been  sent  to  Quebec  for  aid,  but  she  was  chased  and 
captured.  The  frigate  Arethuse,  on  the  night  of  the  14th 
of  July,  was  towed  through  the  obstructions  at  the  mouth 
of  the  harbor,  and  passing  through  the  English  ships  in  a 
fog  succeeded  in  getting  away.  Only  five  vessels  of  the 
French  fleet  now  remained  in  the  harbor,  and  these  were 


ii 


s6i 


MTITH   WOLFE  IN   CAMAftA. 


but  feebly  manned,  as  2000  of  the  officers  and  &eamen  had 
landed  and  were  encamped  in  the  town. 

On  the  afternoon  of  the  i6th  a  party  of  English  led  by 
Wolfe  suddenly  dashed  forward,  and  driving  back  a  com- 
pany of  French  seized  some  rising  ground  within  three 
hundred  yards  of  the  ramparts  and  began  to  intrench 
themselves  there.  All  night  the  French  kept  up  a  furious 
fire  at  the  spot,  but  by  morning  the  English  had  com- 
pleted their  intrenchment,  and  from  this  point  pushed  on 
until  they  had  reached  the  foot  of  the  glacis.  On  the 
2 1  St  the  French  man-of-war  Celehre  was  set  on  fire  by  the 
explosion  of  a  shell.  The  wind  blew  the  flames  into  the 
rigging  of  two  of  her  consorts,  and  these  also  caught  pre, 
and  the  three  ships  burned  to  the  water's  edge. 

Several  fires  were  occasioned  in  the  town,  and  the  Eng- 
lish guns,  of  which  a  great  number  were  now  in  position, 
kept  up  a  storm  of  fire  night  and  day.  On  the  night  of 
the  23d  600  English  sailors  silently  rowed  into,  the 
harbor,  cut  the  cables  of  the  two  remaining  French 
men-of-war,  and  tried  to  tow  them  out.  One,  however, 
was  aground,  for  the  tide  was  low.  The  sailors  there- 
fore set  her  on  fire,  and  then  towed  her  consort  out  of  the 
harbor  amid  a  storm  of  shot  and  shell  from  the  French 
batteries. 

The  French  position  was  now  desperate.  Only  four 
cannon  on  the  side  facing  the  English  batteries  were  fit 
for  service.  The  masonry  of  the  ramparts  was  shaken, 
and  the  breaches  were  almost  complete.  A  fourth  of  the 
garrison  were  in  hospital,  and  tWe  rest  were  worn  out  by 
toil.  Every  house  in  the  place  was  shattered  by  the  Eng- 
lish artillery,  and  there  was  no  shelter  either  for  the 
troops  or  the  inhabitants.  On  the  26th  the  last  French 
cannon  was  silenced  and  a  breach  effected  in  the  waL,  and 
the  French,  unable  longer  to  resist,  hung  out  the  white 
flag.  They  attempted  to  obtain  favorable  conditions,  but 
Boscawen  and  Amherst  insisted  upon  absolute  surrender, 
and  the  French,  wholly  unable  to  resist  further,  accepted 
the  terms. 

Thus  fell  the  great  French  stronghold  on  Cape  Breton. 


^■tT 


LOtJXSBOURG   AND   TICONDEROGA. 


253 


The  defense  had  been  a  most  gallant  one;  and  Drucour, 
the  governor,  although  he  could  not  save  the  fortress, 
had  yet  delayed  the  English  so  long  before  the  walls  that 
it  was  too  late  in  the  season  now  to  attempt  an  attack  on 
Canada  itself. 

Wolfe  indeed  urged  that  an  expedition  should  at  once 
be  sent  against  Quebec,  but  Boscawen  was  opposed  to 
this,  owing  to  the  lateness  of  the  season,  and  Amherst 
was  too  slow  and  deliberate  by  nature  to  determine  sud- 
denly on  the  enterprise.  He,  however,  sailed  with  six 
regiments  for  Boston  to  reinforce  Abercrombie  at  Lake 
George.  Wolfe  carried  out  the  orders  of  the  general  to 
destroy  the  French  settlements  on  the  Gulf  of  St.  Law- 
rence— a,  task  most  repugnant  to  his  humane  nature. 
After  this  had  been  accomplished  he  sailed  for  England. 

When  Amherst  had  sailed  with  his  expedition  to  the 
attack  of  Louisbourg  he  had  not  left  the  colonists  in  so 
unprotected  a  state  as  they  had  been  in  the  preceding 
year.  They  on  their  part  responded  nobly  to  the  call 
from  England  that  a  large  force  should  be  put  in  the 
field.  The  home  government  had  promised  to  supply 
arms,  ammunition,  tents,  and  provisions,  and  to  make  a 
grant  toward  the  pay  and  clothing  of  the  soldiers. 

Massachusetts,  as  usual,  responded  most  freely  and 
loyally  to  the  demand.  She  had  already  incurred  a  very 
heavy  debt  by  her  effort  in  the  war,  and  had  supplied 
2500  men — a  portion  of  whom  had  gone  with  Amherst — 
but  she  now  raised  7000  more,  whom  she  paid,  main- 
tained, and  clothed  out  of  her  own  resources,  thus  plac- 
ing in  the  field  one-fourth  of  her  able-bodied  men.  Con- 
necticut made  eqni'  sacrifices,  although  less  exposed  to 
danger  of  invasioi.  •  while  New  Hampshire  sent  out  one- 
third  of  her  able-bodied  men. 

In  June  the  combined  British  and  provincial  force 
under  Abercrombie  gathered  on  the  site  of  Fort  William 
Henry.  The  force  consisted  of  6367  officers  and  soldiers 
of  the  regular  army  and  9054  colonial  troops.  Aber- 
$:rorabie  himself  was  an  infirm  and  incapable  man,  who 
pwed  his  position  to  political  influence.    The  real  com- 


i 


f' 


•>'. 


»64 


WITH   WOLFE   IN   CANADA. 


mand  was  in  the  hands  of  Brigadier-General  Lord  Howe 
— a  most  energetic  and  able  officer,  who  had  during  the 
past  year  thoroughly  studied  forest  warfare,  and  had 
made  several  expeditions  with  the  scouting  parties  of 
Rogers  and  other  frontier  leaders.  He  was  a  strict  dis- 
ciplinarian, but  threw  aside  all  the  trammels  of  the  tradi- 
tions of  the  service.  He  made  both  officers  and  men 
dress  in  accordance  with  the  work  they  had  before  them. 
All  had  to  cut  their  hair  close,  to  wear  leggings  to  protect 
them  from  the  briars,  and  to  carry  in  th  r  knapsacks 
thirty  pounds  of  meal,  which  each  man  had  to  cook  for 
himself. 

The  coats  of  both  the  regulars  and  provincials  were 
cut  short  at  the  waist,  and  no  officer  or  private  was 
allowed  to  carry  more  than  one  blanket  and  a  bear-skin. 
Howe  himself  lived  as  simply  and  roughly  as  his  men. 
The  soldiers  were  devoted  to  their  young  commander, 
and  were  ready  to  follow  him  to  the  death. 

"  That's  something  like  a  man  for  a  general,"  Nat  said 
enthusiastically  as  he  marched  with  the  Royal  Scouts 
past  the  spot  where  Lord  Howe  was  sitting  on  the 
ground  eating  his  dinner  with  a  pocket  knife.  "  I  have 
never  had  much  hope  of  doing  anything  before  with  the 
regulars  in  the  forest,  but  I  do  think  this  time  we  have 
got  a  chance  of  licking  the  French.  What  do  you  say, 
captain?  " 

"  It  looks  more  hopeful,  Nat,  cervainly.  Under  Lou- 
don and  Webb  things  did  not  look  very  bright,  but  this 
is  -  different  sort  of  general  altogether." 

On  the  evening  of  the  4th  of  July  baggage,  stores,  and 
ammunition  were  all  on  board  the  boats  and  the  whole 
army  embarked  at  daybreak  on  the  5th.  It  was  indeed 
a  magnificent  sight  as  the  flotilla  started.  It  consisted  of 
900  troop  boats,  135  whale-boats,  and  a  large  number  of 
heavy  flat-boats  carrying  the  artillery.  They  were  in 
three  divisions,  the  regulars  in  the  center,  the  provincial 
troops  on  either  flank. 

Each  corps  had  its  flags  and  its  music,  the  day  was  fair 
and  bright,  and  as  the  flotilla  swept  on  past  the  verdure- 


iiiTliliiirrT  lift  iHHif 


LOUlSfiOURG   AND  TICONDKROGA. 


2^5 


clad  hills  with  the  sun  shining  brilliantly  down  on  the 
bright  uniforms  and  gay  flags,  on  the  flash  of  oars  and 
the  glitter  of  weapons,  a  fairer  sight  was  seldom  wit- 
nessed. At  five  in  the  afternoon  they  reached  Sabbath- 
day  Point,  twenty-five  miles  down  the  lake,  where  they 
halted  some  time  for  the  baggage  and  artillery. 

At  eleven  o'clock  they  started  again,  and  by  daybreak 
were  nearing  the  outlet  of  the  lake.  An  advanced  party 
of  the  French  were  watching  their  movements,  and  a  de- 
tachm  :nt  was  seen  near  the  shore  at  the  spot  where  the 
French  had  embarked  on  the  previous  year.  The  com- 
panies of  Rogers  and  James  Walsham  landed  and  drove 
them  off,  and  by  noon  the  whole  army  was  on  shore. 
The  troops  started  in  four  columns,  but  so  dense  was  the 
forest,  so  obstructed  with  undergrowth,  that  they  could 
scarcely  make  iheir  way,  and  after  a  time  even  the  guides 
became  confused  in  the  labyrinth  of  trunks  and  boughs, 
and  the  four  columns  insensibly  drew  near  to  each  other. 

Curiously  the  French  advanced  party,  350  strong,  who 
had  tried  to  retreat,  also  became  lost  in  the  wood,  and  not 
knowing  where  the  English  were,  in  their  wanderings 
again  approached  them.  As  they  did  so  Lord  Howe, 
who  with  Major  Putnam  and  200  rangers  and  scouts  was 
ai  the  head  of  the  principal  column,  suddenly  came  upon 
them.    A  skirmish  followed. 

Scarcely  had  it  begun  when  Lord  Howe  dropped  dead, 
shot  through  the  breast.  For  a  moment  something  like 
a  panic  seized  the  army,  who  believed  that  they  had  fallen 
into  an  ambush  and  that  Montcalm's  whole  force  was 
upon  them.  The  rangers,  however,  fought  steadily  until 
Rogers'  Rangers  and  the  Royal  Scouts,  who  were  out  in 
front,  came  back  and  took  the  French  in  the  rear.  Only 
about  50  of  these  escaped,  148  were  captured,  and  the  rest 
killed  or  drowned  in  endeavoring  to  cross  the  rapids. 

The  loss  of  the  EngHsh  was  small  in  numbers,  but  the 
death  of  Howe  inflicted  an  irreparable  blow  upon  the 
army :  as  Major  Mante,  who  was  present,  wrote,  "  In 
Lord  Howe  the  soul  of  General  Abercrombie's  army 
seemed  to  expire.    From  the  unhappy  moment  that  the 


i 


.2-; 


266 


1iiriTi»  WOLfE  IN  CANADA. 


dl 


gfeneral  was  deprived  of  his  advice  neither  order  nor  dis- 
cipline was  observed,  and  a  strange  kind  of  infatuation 
usurped  the  place  of  resolution." 

The  loss  of  its  gallant  young  general  was  indeed  the 
destruction  of  an  army  of  15,000  men.  Abercrombie 
seemed  paralyzed  by  the  stroke  and  could  do  nothing, 
and  the  soldiers  were  needlessly  kept  under  arms  all  night 
in  the  forest,  and  in  the  morning  were  ordered  back  to 
the  landing-place.  At  noon,  however,  Bradstreet  was 
sent  out  to  take  possession  of  the  sawmill  at  the  falls 
which  Montcalm  had  abandoned  the  evening  before. 
Bradstreet  rebuilt  the  two  bridges  which  had  been  de- 
stroyed by  the  enemy,  and  the  army  then  advanced  and 
in  the  evening  occupied  the  deserted  encampment  of  the 
French. 

Montcalm  had  for  some  days  been  indecisive  as  to  his 
course.  His  force  was  little  more  than  a  fourth  of  that 
of  the  advancing  foe.  He  had  for  some  time  been  aware 
of  the  storm  which  was  preparing  against  him.  Vau- 
dreuil,  the  governor,  had  at  first  intended  to  send  a  body 
of  Canadians  and  Indians  under  General  Levis  down  the 
valley  of  the  Mohawk  to  create  a  diversion,  but  this 
scheme  had  been  abandoned,  and  instead  of  sending 
Levis  with  his  command  to  the  assistance  of  Montcalm 
he  had  kept  them  doing  nothing  at  Montreal.  Just  about 
the  hour  Lord  Howe  was  killed  Montcalm  fell  back  with 
his  force  from  his  position  by  the  falls,  and  resolved  to 
make  a  stand  at  the  base  of  the  peninsula  on  which 
Ticonderoga  stands. 

The  outline  of  the  works  had  already  been  traced,  and 
the  soldiers  of  the  battalion  of  Berry  had  made  some 
progress  in  constructing  them.  At  daybreak,  just  as 
Abercrombie  was  drawing  his  troops  back  to  the  landing- 
place,  Montcalm's  whole  army  set  to  work.  Thousands 
of  trees  were  hewn  down  and  the  trunks  piled  one  upon 
another  so  as  to  form  a  massive  breastwork.  The  Hne 
followed  the  top  of  the  ridge  with  many  zigzags,  so  that 
the  whole  front  could-be  swept  by  a  fire  of  musketry  and 
grape. 


t 


I 


tOlilSBOURG   AND   TtCONDEROGA, 


267 


The  log  wall  was  eight  or  nine  feet  high  and  the  upper 
tier  was  formed  of  single  logs  in  which  notches  were  cut 
to  serve  as  loopholes.  The  whole  space  in  front  was 
cleared  of  trees  for  the  distance  of  a  musket-shot,  the 
trees  being  felled  so  that  their  tops  turned  outward,  form- 
ing an  almost  impenetrable  obstacle,  while  immediately 
in  front  of  the  log  wall  the  ground  was  covered  with 
heavy  boughs  overlapping  and  interlaced,  their  points 
being  sharpened.  This  position  was  in  fact  absolutely 
impregnable  against  an  attack  in  front  by  infantry. 

It  was  true  that  Abercromby  might  have  brought  up 
his  artillery  and  battered  down  the  breastwork,  or  he 
might  have  planted  a  battery  on  the  heights  which  com- 
manded the  position,  or  he  might  have  marched  a  por- 
tion of  his  army  through  the  woods  and  placed  them  on 
the  road  between  Ticonderoga  and  Crown  Point,  and  so 
have  cut  off  the  whole  French  army  and  forced  them  to 
surrender,  for  they  had  but  eight  days'  provisions.  But 
Howe  was  dead,  there  was  no  longer  leading  or  general- 
ship, and  Abercrombie,  leaving  his  cannon  behind  him, 
marched  his  army  to  make  a  direct  attack  on  the  French 
intrenchment. 

In  the  course  of  the  night  Levis,  with  400  of  his  men, 
arrived,  and  the  French  were  in  readiness  for  the  attack. 
The  battalions  of  La  Sarre  and  Languedoc  were  posted 
on  the  left  under  Bourlamaque,  Berry  and  Royal  Rous- 
sillon  in  the  center  under  Montcalm,  La  Reine,  Beam, 
and  Guienne  on  the  right  under  Levis.  A  detachment  of 
volunteers  occupied  the  low  ground  between  the  breast- 
work and  outlet  of  Lake  George,  while  450  Canadian 
troops  held  an  abattis  on  the  side  toward  Lake  Cham- 
plain,  where  they  were  covered  by  the  guns  of  the  fort. 

Until  noon  the  French  worked  unceasingly  to 
strengthen  their  position,  then  a  heavy  fire  broke  out  in 
front  as  the  rangers  and  light  infantry  drove  in  their 
pickets.  As  soon  as  the  English  issued  from  the  wood 
they  opened  fire,  and  then  the  regulars,  formed  in 
columns  of  attack,  pushed  forward  across  the  rough 
ground  with  its  maze  of  fallen  trees. 


*:i'?i 


Hi  ^1 


\ 


26d 


WITH   WOLFE   Il4   CANADA, 


They  could  see  the  top  of  the  breastwork  but  not  the 
men  behind  it,  and  as  soon  as  they  were  fairly  entangled 
in  the  trees  a  terrific  fire  opened  upon  them.  The  Eng- 
lish pushed  up  close  to  the  breastwork,  but  they  could 
rot  pass  the  bristling  mass  of  sharpened  branches  which 
were  swept  by  a  terrific  cross-fire  from  the  intrenchment. 
After  striving  for  an  hour  they  fell  back.  Abercrombie, 
who  had  remained  at  the  mill  a  mile  and  a  half  in  the 
rear,  sent  orders  for  them  to  attack  again. 

Never  did  the  English  fight  with  greater  bravery.  Six 
times  did  they  advance  to  the  attack,  but  the  task  set 
them  was  impossible.  At  five  in  the  afternoon  two  Eng- 
lish columns  made  an  assault  on  the  extreme  right  of  the 
French,  and  although  Montcalm  hastened  to  the  spot 
with  his  reserves  they  nearly  succeeded  ir  breaking 
through,  hewing  their  way  right  to  the  very  foot  of  the 
breastwork,  and  renewing  the  attack  over  and  over  again, 
the  Highland  regiment,  which  led  the  column,  fighting 
with  desperate  valor,  and  not  retiring  until  its  major  and 
25  of  the  officers  were  killed  or  wounded  and  half  the 
men  had  fallen  under  the  deadly  fire. 

At  six  o'clock  another  desperate  attempt  was  made, 
but  in  vain;  then  the  regulars  fell  back  in  disorder,  but 
for  an  hour  and  a  half  the  provincials  and  rangers  kept 
up  a  fire  while  their  comrades  removed  the  wounded. 
Abercrombie  had  lost  in  killed,  wounded,  and  missing 
1944  officers  and  men,  while  the  loss  of  the  French  was 

Even  now  Abercrombie  might  have  retrieved  his  re- 
pulse, for  with  13,000  men  still  remaining  against  3300 
unwounded  Frenchmen  he  could  still  have  easily  forced 
them  to  surrender  by  planting  cannons  on  the  heights  or 
by  cutting  off  their  communication  and  food.  He  did 
neither,  but  at  daybreak  re-embarked  his  army  and  re- 
tired with  all  speed  down  the  lake. 

Montcalm  soon  received  large  reinforcements  and 
sent  out  scouting  parties.  One  of  these  caught  a  party 
commanded  by  Captain  Rogers  in  an  ambush,  but  were 
finally  driven  back  with  such  heavy  loss  that  from  that 


: 


QUEBEC. 


269 


time  few  scouting-  parties  were  sent  out  from  Ticon- 
deroga.  In  October,  Montcalm  with  the  main  portion 
of  his  army  retired  for  the  winter  to  Montreal,  while  the 
English  fell  back  to  Albany. 

While  Abercrombie  was  lying  inactive  at  the  head  of 
Lake  George,  Brigadier-General  Forbes  had  advanced 
from  Virginia  against  Fort  Duquesne,  and  after  immense 
labor  and  hardships  succeeded  in  arriving  at  the  fort, 
which  the  French  evacuated  at  his  approach,  having 
burned  the  barracks  and  storehouses  and  blown  up  the 
fortifications.  A  stockade  was  formed  and  a  fort  after- 
ward built  there;  this  was  called  Fort  Pitt  and  the  place 
itself  Pittsburg.  A  small  garrison  was  left  there,  and  the 
army,  after  having  f  ted  and  buried  the  bones  of 
Braddock's  men,  retired  to  Virginia. 

The  general,  who,  though  suffering  terribly  from  dis- 
ease, had  steadfastly  carried  out  the  enterprise  in  the 
face  of  enormous  difficulties,  died  shortly  after  the  force 
returned  to  the  settlements.  Another  successful  enter- 
prise during  the  autumn  had  been  the  capture  of  Fort 
Frontenac,  and  the  gaining  of  a  foothold  by  the  English 
on  Lake  Ontario.  Thus  the  campaign  of  1758  was  on 
the  whole  disastrous  to  the  French ;  they  had  held  their 
own  triumphantly  at  Ticonderoga,  but  they  had  lost  their 
great  fortress  of  Louisbourg,  their  right  had  been  forced 
back  by  the  capture  of  Fort  Duquesne,  and  their  line  of 
communication  cut  by  the  destruction  of  Fort  Frontenac. 


CHAPTER  XVIIL 

QUEBEC. 

In  the  following  spring  the  French  prepared  to  resist 
the  serious  attack  which  they  expected  woald  be  made 
by  way  of  Lake  Champlain  and  Ontario,  but  a  g-eater 
danger  was  threatening  them,  for  in  the  midst  of  their 
preparations  the  news  arrived  from  France  that  a  great 
fleet  was  on  its  way  from  England  to  attack  Quebec, 


M 


i-  ■ 


d7o 


WITH    WOLFE    IN    CANADA. 


The  town  was  filled  with  consternation  and  surprise,  for 
the  Canadians  had  believed  that  the  navigation  of  the  St. 
Lawrence  was  too  difficult  and  dangerous  for  any  hostile 
fleet  to  attempt.  Their  spirits  rose,  however,  when  a  few 
days  later  a  fleet  of  twenty-three  ships  ladened  with  sup- 
plies from  France  sailed  up  the  river. 

A  day  or  two  later  the  British  fleet  was  at  the  mouth 
of  the  St.  Lawrence,  and  the  whole  forces  of  the  colony, 
except  three  battalions  posted  at  Ticonderoga  and  a 
strong  detachment  placed  so  as  to  resist  any  hostile 
movement  from  Lake  Ontario,  were  mustered  at  Quebec. 
Here  were  gathered  five  French  battalions,  the  whole  of 
the  Canadian  troops  and  militia,  and  upward  of  looo 
Indians,  in  all  amounting  to  more  than  16,000. 

The  position  was  an  extremely  strong  one;  the  main 
force  was  encamped  on  the  high  ground  below  Quebec 
with  their  right  resting  on  the  St.  Charles  River,  and  the 
left  on  the  Montmorenci,  a  distance  of  between  seven 
and  eight  miles.  The  front  was  covered  by  steep  ground 
which  rose  nearly  from  the  edge  of  the  St.  Lawrence,  and 
the  right  was  covered  by  the  guns  of  the  citadel  of 
Quebec. 

A  boom  of  logs  chained  together  was  laid  across  the 
mouth  of  the  St.  Charles,  which  was  further  guarded  by 
two  hulks  mounted  with  cannon.  A  bridge  of  boats 
crossing  the  river  a  mile  higher  up  connected  the  city 
with  the  camp.  All  the  gates  of  Quebec  except  that  of 
St.  Charles,  which  fpced  the  bridge,  were  closed  and  bar- 
ricaded. A  hundred  and  six  cannon  were  mounted  on 
the  wails,  while  a  floating-battery  of  twelve  heavy  pieces, 
a  number  of  gunboats,  and  eight  fire-ships  formed  the 
river  defenses. 

The  frigates  which  had  con,voyed  the  merchant  fleet 
were  taken  higher  up  the  river,  and  1000  of  their  sea- 
men came  down  from  Quebec  to  man  the  batteries  and 
gunboats.  Against  this  force  of  16,000  men  posted 
behind  defensive  works,  on  a  position  almost  impreg- 
nable by  nature,  General  Wolfe  was  bringing  less  than 
9000  troops.    The  steep  and  lofty  heights  that  lined 


OUEBfiC. 


iit 


the  river  rendered  the  cannon  of  the  ships  useless  to  him, 
and  the  exigencies  of  the  fleet  in  such  narrow  and  diffi- 
cult navigation  prevented  the  sailors  being  landed  to 
assist  the  troops. 

A  large  portion  of  Montcalm's  army  indeed  consisted 
of  Canadians,  who  were  of  little  use  in  the  open  field, 
but  could  be  trusted  to  fight  well  behind  intrenchments. 
Wolfe  was  unfortunately  in  extremely  bad  health  when 
he  was  selected  by  Pitt  to  command  the  expedition 
against  Quebec,  but  under  him  were  Brigadier-Generals 
Monckton,  Townshend,  and  Murray,  all  good  officers. 
The  fleet  consisted  of  twenty-two  ships  of  war  with 
frigates  and  sloops,  and  a  great  number  of  transports. 
It  was  at  first  divided  into  three  squadrons;  that  under 
Admiral  Durell  sailed  direct  for  the  St.  Lawrence  to 
intercept  the  ships  from  France,  but  arrived  at  its  desti- 
nation a  few  days  too  late.  That  of  Admiral  Holmes 
sailed  for  New  York  to  take  on  board  a  portion  of  the 
army  of  Amherst  and  Abercrombie;  that  of  Admiral 
Saunders  sailed  to  Louisbourg,  but  finding  the  entrance 
blocked  with  ice  went  on  to  Halifax,  where  it  was  joined 
by  the  squadron  with  the  troops  from  New  York.  They 
then  sailed  again  to  Louisbourg,  where  they  remained 
until  the  6th  of  June,  1759,  and  then  joined  Durell  at 
the  mouth  of  the  St.  Lawrence. 

Wolfe's  force  had  been  intenaed  to  be  larger,  and 
should  have  amounted  to  14,000  men;  but  some  regi- 
ments which  were  to  have  joined  him  from  the  West 
Indies  were,  at  the  last  moment,  countermanded,  and 
Amherst,  who  no  douLt  felt  some  jealousy  at  the  com- 
mand of  this  important  expedition  being  given  to  an 
officer  who  had  served  under  his  orders  at  the  taking  of 
Louisbourg,  sent  a  smaller  contingent  of  troops  than 
had  been  expected. 

Among  the  regiments  which  sailed  was  that  of  James 
Walsham.  After  the  fight  at  Ticonderoga,  in  which 
upward  of  half  of  his  force  had  fallen,  the  little  corps  had 
been  broken  up,  and  the  men  had  returned  to  duty  with 
their  regiments.    Owing  to  the  number  of  officers  who 


f 


r 


2?  2 


WITH  WoLPfi  m  CANADAi 


had  fallen,  James  now  stood  high  on  the  list  of  lieuten- 
ants.    He  had  had  enough  of  scouting,  and  was  glad  to 
return  to  the  regiment,  his  principal  regret  being  that 
he  had  to  part  from  his  two  trusty  scouts. 
There  was  great  joy  in  the  regiment  when  the  news 


.  1 


QUEBEC. 


273 


M 


was  received  that  they  were  to  go  with  the  expedition 
against  Quebec.  They  had  formed  part  of  Wolfe's  divi- 
sion at  Louisbourg,  and  Hk'e  all  who  had  served  with 
him,  regarded  with  enthusiasm  and  confidence  the 
leader  whose  frail  body  seemed  wholly  incapable  of  sus- 
taining fatigue  or  hardship,  but  whose  indomitable  spirit 
and  courage  placed  him  ever  in  the  front,  and  set  an 
example  which  the  bravest  of  his  followers  were  proud 
to  imitate. 

From  time  to  time  James  had  received  letters  from 
home.  Communication  was  irregular;  but  his  mother 
and  Mr.  Wilks  wrote  frequently,  and  sometimes  he  re- 
ceived half  a  dozen  letters  at  once.  He  had  now  been 
absent  from  home  for  four  years,  and  his  mother  told 
him  that  he  would  scarcely  recognize  Aggie,  who  was 
now  as  tall  as  herself.  Mrs.  Walsham  said  that  the  girl 
was  almost  as  interested  as  she  was  in  his  letters,  and  in 
the  dispatches  from  the  war,  in  which  his  name  had  sev- 
eral times  been  mentioned  in  connection  with  the 
services  rendered  by  his  scouts. 

Richard  Horton  had  twice,  during  James'  absence, 
returned  home.  The  squire,  Mrs.  Walsham  said,  had 
received  him  very  coolly  in  consequence  of  the  letter  he 
had  written  when  James  was  pressed  as  a  seam.an,  and 
she  said  that  Aggie  seemed  to  have  taken  a  great  objec- 
tion to  him.  She  wondered  indeed  that  he  could  stay  an 
hour  in  the  house  after  his  reception  there;  but  he 
seemed  as  if  he  didn't  notice  it,  and  took  especial  pains 
to  try  and  overcome  Aggie's  feeling  against  him. 

While  waiting  at  the  mouth  of  the  St.  Lawrence  Ad- 
miral Durell  had  succeeded  in  obtaining  pilots  to  take 
the  fleet  up  the  river.  He  had  sailed  up  the  river  to  the 
point  where  the  difBcult  navigation  began,  and  where 
vessels  generally  took  on  board  river  pilots.  Here  he 
hoisted  the  French  flag  at  the  masthead,  and  the  pilots, 
believing  the  ships  to  be  a  French  squadron  which  had 
eluded  the  watch  of  the  English,  came  off  in  their  boats 
and  were  all  taken  prisoners,  and  forced  under  pain  of 
ijJeath  to  take  the  English  vessels  safely  up.    The  fir?t 


m 


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IMAGE  EVALUATION 
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Photographic 

Sciences 

Corporation 


23  WIST  MAIN  STRiET 

WEBSTIR.N.Y.  14580 

(716)S72-4S03 


^a^mm^waa^ftimmm^lfgiff^^ 


mm 


274 


WITH  WOLFE  IN  CANADA. 


difficulty  of  the  passage  was  at  Cape  Tourmente,  where 
the  channel  describes  a  complete  zigzag. 

iHad  the  French  planted  some  gruns  on  a  plateau  high 
up  on  the  side  of  the  mountains 'they  could  have  done 
great  damage  by  a  plunging  fire;  but  Vaudreuil  had 
neglected  to  take  this  measure,  and  the  fleet  passed  up 
in  safety,  the  manner  in  which  they  were  handled  and 
navigated  astonishing  the  Canadians,  who  had  believed 
it  to  be  impossible  that  large  ships  could  be  taken  up. 
On  the  26th  the  whole  fleet  were  anchored  off  the  Island 
of  Orleans,  a  few  miles  below  Quebec.  The  sanie  night 
a  small  party  landed  on  the  island.  They  were  opposed 
by  the  armed  inhabitants,  but  beat  them  off,  and  during 
the  night  the  Canadians  crossed  to  the  north  shore. 
The  whole  army  then  landed.  ^ 

From  the  end  of  the  island  Wolfe  could  see  the  full 
strength  of  the  position  which  he  had  come  to  attack. 
Three  or  four  miles  in  front  of  him  the  town  of  Quebec 
stood  upon  its  elevated  rock.  Beyond  rose  the  loftier 
height  of  Cape  Diamond  with  its  redoubts  and  parapets. 
Three  great  batteries  looked  threateningly  from  the 
upper  rock  of  Quebec,  while  three  others  were  placed 
near  the  edge  of  the  water  in  the  lower  town.  On  the 
right  was  the  great  camp  of  Montcalm,  stretching  from 
the  St.  Charles  at  the  foot  of  the  city  walls  to  the  gorge 
of  the  Montmorenci. 

From  the  latter  point  to  the  village  of  Beauport  in 
the  center  of  the  camp  the  front  was  covered  with  earth- 
works along  the  brink  of  a  lofty  height,  and  from  Beau- 
port  to  the  St.  Charles  were  broad  flats  of  mud  swept  by 
the  fire  of  redoubts  and  intrenchments,  by  the  guns  of  a 
floating-battery,  and  by  those  of  the  city  itself.  Wolfe 
could  not  see  beyond  Quebec,  but  above  the  city  the  posi- 
tion was  even  stronger  than  below.  The  river  was 
walled  by  a  range  of  steeps  often  inaccessible,  and 
always  so  difficult  that  a  few  men  could  hold  an  army 
in  check. 

Montcalm  was  perfectly  confident  of  his  ability  to  re- 
sist any  attack  which  the  British  might  make.    Bougaia- 


r 


E  h' 


i^-^P^^pwpp^^^ 


QUEBEC. 


275 


«^ 


n! 


■r  } 


( 


ville  had  long  before  examined  the  position  in  view  of  the 
possibility  of  an  English  expedition  against  it  and  re- 
ported that  with  a  few  intrenchments  the  city  would  be 
safe  if  defended  by  300c  or  4000  men.  Sixteen  thousand 
were  now  gathered  there,  an^  Montcalm  might  well  be- 
lieve the  position  to  be  impregnable. 

He  was  determined  to  run  no  risk  by  advancing  to 
give  battle,  but  to  remain  upon  the  defensive  till  the 
resources  of  the  English  were  exhausted,  or  till  the  ap- 
proach of  winter  forced  them  to  retire.  His  only  source 
of  uneasiness  lay  in  the  south,  for  he  feared  that  Amherst 
with  his  army  might  capture  Ticonderoga  and  advance 
into  the  colony,  in  which  case  he  must  weaken  his  army 
by  sending  a  force  to  oppose  him. 

On  the  day  after  the  army  landed  on  the  island  a  sud- 
den and  very  violent  squall  drove  several  of  4:he  ships 
ashore  and  destroyed  many  of  the  flat-boats.  On  the 
following  night  the  sentries  at  the  end  of  the  island  saw 
some  vessels  coming  down  the  river.  Suddenly  these 
burst  into  flames.  They  were  the  fire-sbips  which  Vau- 
dreuil  had  sent  down  to  destioy  the  fleet.  They  were 
filled  with  pitch,  tar,  and  ail  sorts  of  combustibles,  with 
shell  and  grenades  mixed  up  with  them,  while  on  their 
decks  were  a  number  of  cannon  crammed  to  the  mouth 
with  g^ape-shot  and  musket-balls. 

Fortunately  for  the  English  the  French  naval  officer 
in  command  lost  his  nerve,  and  set  fire  to  his  ship  half 
an  hour  too  soon,  the  other  captains  following  his 
example.  This  gave  the  English  time  to  recover  from 
the  first  feeling  of  consternation  at  seeing  the  fire-ships, 
each  a  pillar  of  flame,  advancing  with  tremendous  explo- 
sion and  noise  against  them.  The  troops  at  once  got 
under  arms  lest  the  French  should  attack  them.,  while 
the  vessels  lowered  their  boats,  and  the  sailors  rowed  up 
to  meet  the  fire-ships.  When  they  neared  them  they 
threw  grapnels  on  board,  and  towed  them  toward  land 
until  they  were  stranded,  and  then  left  them  to  burn  out 
undisturbed. 

Finding  that  it  would  be  impossible  to  effect  a  land- 


IIP 


^H5PfPW«pp|fl|ipi^^WW»wfl^p»P^^i^PfpiPSppppp^ 


^m 


376 


WITH  WOLPB  IN  CANADA. 


ing  under  the  fire  of  the  French  guns,  Wolfe  determined 
as  a  first  step  to  seize  the  height  of  Point  Levi  opposite 
Quebec.  From  this  point  he  could  fire  on  the  town 
across  the  St.  Lawrence,  which  is  here  less  than  a  mile 
wide.  On  the  afternoon  of  the  29th  Monckton's  brigade 
crossed  in  the  boats  to  Beaumont  on  the  south  shore. 
His  advance  guard  had  a  skirmish  with  a  party  of 
Canadians,  but  these  soon  fell  back,  and  no  further  oppo- 
sition was  offered  to  the  landing. 

In  the  morning  a  proclamation  issued  by  Wolfe  was 
posted  on  the  doors  of  the  parish  churches.  It  called 
upon  the  Canadians  to  stand  neutral  in  the  contest, 
promising  them,  if  they  did  so,  full  protection  to  their 
property  and  religion;  but  threatening  that  if  they  re- 
sisted Iheir  houses,  goods,  and  harvest  should  be 
destroyed,  and  their  churches  sacked. 

Tl  brigade  marched  along  the  river  to  Point  Levi 
and  Irove  off  a  body  of  French  and  Indians  posted 
there,  and  the  next  morning  began  to  throw  up  intrench- 
ments  and  to  form  batteries.  Wolfe  did  not  expect  that 
his  guns  here  could  do  any  serious  damage  to  the  forti- 
fications of  Quebec.  His  object  was  paniy  to  dis- 
courage the  inhabitants  of  the  city  exposed  to  his  fire, 
partly  to  keep  up  the  spirits  of  his  own  troops  by  setting 
them  to  work. 

The  guns  of  Quebec  kept  up  a  continual  fire  against 
the  working  parties,  but  the  batteries  continued  to  rise, 
and  the  citizens,  alarmed  at  the  destruction  which 
threatened  their  houses,  asked  the  governor  to  allow 
them  to  cross  the  river  and  dislodge  the  English.  Al- 
though he  had  no  belief  that  they  would  succeed  he 
thought  it  better  to  allow  them  to  try.  Accordingly 
some  1500  armed  citizens  and  Canadians  from  the  camp, 
with  a  few  Indians,  and  100  volunteers  from  the  regulars, 
marched  up  the  river  and  crossed  on  the  night  of  the  12th 
of  July. 

The  courage  of  the  citizens  evaporated  very  quickly 
now  they  were  on  the  same  side  of  the  river  as  the  Eng- 
lish^ althouj^h  stili  thre^  mile^  from  them^    In  a  3hort 


."".«'•   '"'■'  "^H^W^WPIfw 


^UEBEd. 


277 


time  a  wild  panic  seized  them.  They  rushed  back  in 
extreme  disorder  to  their  boats,  crossed  the  river,  and 
returned  to  Quebec.  The  English  guns  soon  opened 
and  carried  destruction  into  the  city.  In  one  day  eigh- 
teen houses  and  the  cathedral  were  burned  by  explod- 
ing shells,  and  the  citizens  so  ^n  abandoned  their  homes 
and  fled  into  the  country. 

The  destruction  of  the  city,  however,  even  if  com- 
plete, would  have  advanced  Wolfe's  plans  but  little.  It 
was  a  moral  blow  at  the  enemy,  but  nothing  more.  On 
the  8th  of  July  several  frigates  took  their  station  before 
the  camp  of  General  Levis,  who,  with  his  division  of 
Canadian  militia,  occupied  the  heights  along  the  St. 
Lawrence  next  to  the  gorge  of  Montmorenci..  Here 
they  opened  fire  with  shell  and  continued  it  till  nightfall. 
Owing  to  the  height  of  the  plateau  on  which  the  camp 
was  situated  they  did  but  little  damage,  but  the  inten- 
tion of  Wolfe  was  simply  to  keep  the  enemy  occupied 
and  under  arms. 

Toward  evening  the  troops  on  the  island  broke  up 
their  camp,  and,  leaving  a  deiachment  of  marines  to  hold 
the  post,  the  brigades  of  Townshend  and  Murray,  3000 
strong,  embarked  after  nightfall  in  the  boats  of  the 
fleet,  and  landed  a  little  below  the  Montmorenci.  At 
daybreak  they  climbed  the  heights,  and,  routing  a 
body  of  Canadians  and  Indians  who  opposed  them, 
gained  the  plateau  and  began  to  intrench  themselves 
there. 

A  company  of  rangers  supported  by  the  regulars  was 
sent  into  the  neighboring  forests  to  prevent  the  par- 
ties from  cutting  bushes  for  the  fascines,  to  explore  the 
bank  of  the  Montmorenci,  and  if  possible  to  discover  a 
ford  across  the  river.  Levis  with  his  aid-de-camp,  a 
Jacobite  Scotchman  named  Johnston,  was  watching  the 
movements  of  Wolfe  from'  the  heights  above  the  gorge. 
Levis  believed  that  no  ford  existed,  but  Johnston  found 
a  man  who  had  onl"  that  morning  crossed. 

A  detachment  was  at  once  sent  to  the  place  with 
orders  to  intrench  themselves,  and  Levis  posted  iioo 


wmm^imiw^ 


t-\:  ■ 


i^ij  .M  -jmM  ^JOfm) .  ff^iS.MJ:  ,jy . 


pip« 


?:^*^!i»^' ''-''  W' w*^.' '™ 


278 


tVlTH  WOLPft  In  CAt^ADA. 


Canadians  under  Repentigny  cIofc  by  in  support.  Four 
hundred  Indians  passed  tlie  ford  and  discovered  the 
English  detachment  in  the  forest,  and  X^anglade,  their 
commander,  recrossed  the  river  and  told  Repentigny 
that  there  was  a  body  of  English  in  the  forest 
who  might  be  destroyed  if  he  would  cross  at  once 
with  his  Canadians.  Repentigny  sent  to  Levis,  and 
Levis  to  Vaudreuil,  then  three  or  four  miles  distant. 

Before  Vaudreuil  arrived  on  the  spot  the  Indians  be- 
came impatient  and  attacked  the  rangers,  and  drove 
them  back  with  loss  upon  the  regulars,  who  stood  their 
if^round  and  repulsed  the  assailants;  the  Indians,  how- 
ever, carried  thirty-six  scalps  across  the  ford.  If 
Repentigny  had  advanced  when  first  called  upon,  and 
had  been  followed  by  Levis  with  his  whole  command, 
the  English  might  have  suflfered  a  very  severe  check, 
for  the  Canadians  were  as  much  superior  to  the  regulars 
in  the  forest,  as  the  regulars  to  the  Canadians  in  the 
open. 

Vaudreuil  called  a  cot^iicil  of  war,  but  he  and  Mont- 
calm agreed  not  to  attack  the  English,  who  were,  on 
their  part,  powerless  to  injuro  them.  Wolfe's  position 
on  the  heights  was  indeed  a  dangerous  one.  A  third  of 
his  force  was  six  miles  away,  on  the  other  side  of  the  St 
Lawrence,  and  the  detachment  on  the  island  was  sepa- 
rated from  each  1  y  a  wide  arm  of  the  river.  Any  of  the 
three  were  liable  to  be  attacked  and  overpowered  before 
the  others  could  come  to  its  assistance. 

Wolfe,  indeed,  was  soon  well  intrenched,  but  although 
safe  against  attack  he  was  powerless  to  take  the  oflfen- 
sive.  The  fact,  however,  that  he  had  taken  up  his  posi- 
tion so  near  their  camp  had  discomfited  the  Canadians, 
^and  his  battery  played  with  considerable  effect  on  the 
left  of  their  camp.  The  time  passed  slowly.  The  deep, 
and  impassable  gulf  of  the  Montmorenci  separated  the 
two  enemies,  but  the  crests  of  the  opposite  cliflfs  were 
within  easy  gunshot  of  each  other,  and  men  who  sho\ved 
themselves  near  the  edge  ran  a  strong  chance  of  being 
hit 


■« 


) 


'1'' 

•■?■. 


■ 


W^WT^^^T^^ 


^^^^^^fCm 


|(  ■i»,;iiif'|  II" 


^^p 


•^m 


mi^m 


■^1 


' 


' 


II 


QUEBEC. 


379 


Along  the  river  from  the  Montmorenci  to  Point  Levi 
continued  fighting  went  on  between  the  guns  of  the 
frigates  and  the  guhboats  and  batteries  on  shore.  The 
Indians  swarmed  in  the  forest  near  the  English  camp 
and  constant  skirmishing  went  on  between  them  and 
the  rangers.  The  steady  work  of  destruction  going  on 
in  the  city  of  Quebec  by  the  fire  from  Point  Levi  ana  the 
ceaseless  cannonade  kept  up  by  the  ships  and  Wolfe's 
batteries,  added  to  the  inactivity  to  which  they  were  con- 
demned, began  to  dispirit  the  Canadian  militia,  and 
many  desertions  took  place,  the  men  being  anxious  to 
return  to  their  villages  and  look  after  the  crops;  and 
man)  more  would  have  deserted  had  it  not  been  for  the 
persuasions  of  the  priests  and  the  fear  of  being  mal- 
treated by  the  Indians,  whom  the  governor  threatened 
to  let  loose  upon  any  who  should  waver  in  their  resist- 
ance. 

On  the  i8th  of  July  a  fresh  move  was  made  by  the 
English.  The  French  had  believed  it  impossible  for  any 
hostile  ships  to  pass  the  batteries  of  Quebec ;  but,  cov- 
ered by  a  furious  cannonade  from  Point  Levi,  the  man- 
of-war  Sutherlandy  with  a  frigate  and  several  small  ves- 
sels, aidec  by  a  favoring  wind,  ran  up  the  river  at  night 
and  passed  above  the  town.  Montcalm  at  once  dis- 
patched 600  men  under  Dumas  to  defend  the  accessi- 
ble points  in  the  line  of  precipices  above  Quebec,  and 
on  the  following  day,  when  it  became  known  that  the 
English  had  dragged  a  fleet  of  boats  over  Point  Levi, 
and  had  launched  them  above  the  town,  a  reinforcement 
of  several  hundreds  more  was  sent  to  Dumas.   ■- 

On  the  night  of  the  20th  Colonel  Carleton  with  600 
men  rowed  eighteen  miles  up  the  river  and  landed  at 
Pointe-aux-Trembles  on  the  north  shore.  Here  many 
of  the  fugitives  from  Quebec  had  taken  refuge,  and  100 
women,  children,  and  old  men  were  taken  prisoners  by 
Carleton  and  brought  down  the  next  day  with  the  retir- 
ing force.  Wolfe  entertained  the  prisoners  kindly,  and 
sent  them  on  the  following  day  with  a  flag  of  truce 
into  Quebec.    On  the  night  of  the  28th  the  French 


".-"^'i-i 


S.A''   ■'. 


Hi 


iSo 


WITH  WOLPE  IN  CANADA. 


made  another  attempt  to  burn  the  English  fleet,  send- 
ing down  a  large  number  of  schooners,  shallops,  r^nd 
rafts  chained  together  and  filled  as  before  with  com- 
bustibles. 

This  time  the  fire  was  not  applied  too  soon,  and  the 
English  fleet  was  for  some  time  in  great  danger,  but  was 
again  saved  by  the  sailors,  who,  in  spite  of  the  storm  of 
missiles  vomited  out  by  cannon,  swivels,  grenades,  shell, 
and  gun  and  pistol  barrels  loaded  up  to  the  muzzle, 
grappled  with  the  burning  mass  and  towed  it  on  shore. 

It  was  now  the  end  of  July,  and  Wolfe  was  no  nearer 
taking  Quebec  than  upon  the  day  when  he  first  landed 
there.  In  vain  he  had  tempted  Montcalm  to  attack  him. 
The  French  general,  confident  in  the  strength  of  his 
position,  refused  to  leave  it  Wolfe  therefore  deter- 
mined !;o  attack  the  camp  in  front.  The  plan  was  a 
desperate  one,  for  after  leaving  troops  enough  to  hold 
his  two  camps  he  had  less  than  5000  men  to  attack 
a  position  of  commanding  strength,  where  Montcalm 
could  at  an  hour's  notice  collect  twice  as  many  to  oppose 
him. 

At  a  spot  about  a  mile  above  the  gorge  of  the  Mont- 
morenci  a  flat  strip  of  ground  some  two  hundred  yards 
wide  lay  between  the  river  and  the  foot  of  the  precipices, 
and  at  low  tide  the  river  left  a  fiat  of  mud  nearly  half  a 
mile  wide  beyond  the  dry  ground.  Along  the  edge  of 
the  high-water  mark  the  French  had  built  several 
redoubts.  From  the  river  Wolfe  could  not  see  that 
these  redoubts  were  commanded  by  the  musketry  of 
the  intrenchments  along  the  edge  of  the  heights  above, 
which  also  swept  with  their  fire  the  whole  face  of  the 
declivity,  which  was  covered  with  grass  and  was  ex- 
tremely steep.  Wolfe  hoped  that  if  he  attacked  one  of 
the  redoubts  the  French  would  come  down  to  defend 
it,  and  that  a  battle  might  be  so  brought  on;  or  that  if 
they  did  not  do  so  he  might  find  a  spot  where  the  heights 
could  be  stormed  with  some  chance  of  success. 

At  low  tide  it  was  possible  to  ford  the  mouth  of  the 
Montmorenci;  and  Wolk  intended  that  the  troops  from 


\ 


! 


% 


A 


■■:»! 


-*1 


mrnt 


i\ 


'\ 


It 


1 


OUfeBfid 


28t 


his  camp  on  the  heights  above  that  river  should  cross 
here,  and  advance  along  the  strand  to  co-operate  with 
Monckton's  brigade,  who  were  to  cross  from  Point 
Levi. 

On  the  morning  of  the  31st  of  July  the  Centitrrn  of 
sixty-four  guns,  and  two  armed  transports  each  v/ith 
fourteen  guns,  stood  close  in  to  one  of  the  redoubts  and 
opened  fire  upon  it,  while  the  English  batteries  from  the 
heights  of  the  Montmorenci  opened  fire  across  the 
chasm  upon  the  French  lines. 

At  eleven  o'clock  the  troops  from  Point  Levi  put  oflf  in 
their  boats,  and  moved  across  the  river  as  if  they 
intended  to  make  a  landing  between  Beauport  and  the 
city.  For  some  hours  Montcalm  remained  ignorant  as 
to%he  point  on  which  the  English  attack  was  to  be 
made,  but  became  presently  convinced  that  it  would  be 
delivered  near  the  Montmorenci,  and  he  massed  the 
whole  of  his  army  on  that  flank  of  his  position.  At 
half-past  five  o'clock  the  tide  was  low,  and  the  English 
boats  dashed  forward  and  the  troops  sprang  ashore  on 
to  the  broad  tract  of  mud  left  bare  by  the  tide,  while  at 
the  same  moment  a  column  2000  strong  moved  down 
from  the  height  toward  the  ford  at  the  mouth  of  the 
Montmorenci. 

The  first  to  land  were  thirteen  companies  of  Grena- 
diers and  a  detachment  of  Royal  Americans,  who,  with- 
out waiting  for  the  two  regiments  of  Monckton's 
brigade,  dashed  forward  against  the  redoubt  at  the  foot 
of  the  hill.  The  French  at  once  abandoned  it,  but  the 
Grenadiers  had  no  sooner  poured  into  it  than  a  storm 
of  bullets  rained  down  upon  them  from  the  troops  who 
lined  the  heights  above. 

Without  a  moment's  hesitation  the  Grenadiers  and 
Americans  dashed  forward  and  strove  to  climb  the  steep 
ascent,  swept  as  it  was  by  a  terrific  hail  of  bullets  and 
buck-shot  from  the  French  and  Canadians.  Numbers 
rolled  dead  or  wounded  to  the  bottom  of  the  hill,  but  the 
others  struggled  on. 

But  at  this  moment  the  cloud  which  had  been 


sSa 


WITH  WOLfE  tU  CAllADA. 


threatening  all  day  suddenly  opened  and  the  rain  poured 
down  in  a  torrent,  the  grassy  slopes  instantly  became 
so  slippery  that  it  was  absolutely  impossible  to  climb 
them,  and  the  fire  from  above  died  away  as  the  wet  ren- 
dered the  firelocks  unserviceable. 

The  Grenadiers  fell  back  into  the  redoubt.  Wolte, 
who  now  arrived  upon  the  spot,  saw  that  it  was  abso- 
lutely impossible  to  carry  the  heights  under  the  present 
conditions,  and  ordered  the  troops  to  retreat.  Carrying 
off  many  of  the  wounded  with  them,  they  fell  back  in 
good  order.  Those  of  the  Grenadiers  and  Americans 
who  survived  recrossed  in  their  boats  to  the  island,  the 
15th  Regiment  rowed  back  to  Point  Levi,  and  the  78th 
Highlanders,  who  belonged  to  Monckton's  brigade, 
joined  the  column  from  below  the  Montmorenci  and 
slowly  retired  Llong  the  flats  and  across  the  ford. 

The  loss  fell  entirely  upon  the  Grenadiers  and  Ameri- 
cans, and  was,  in  proportion  to  their  number,  enormous 
— ^44^,  including  i  colonel,  8  captains,  21  lieutenants,  and 
3  ensigns,  being  killed,  wounded,,  or  missing.  The  blow 
to  the  English  was  a  severe  one,  and  even  Wolfe  began 
to  despair,  and  meditated  leaving  a  portion  of  his  troops 
on  Isle-aux-Coudres  and  fortifying  them  there,  and  sail- 
ing home  with  the  rest  to  prepare  another  expedition  in 
the  following  year. 

In  the  middle  of  August  he  issued  a  thira  proclamation 
to  the  Canadians,  declaring,  as  they  had  refused  his  offers 
of  protection,  and  had  practiced  the  most  unchristian 
barbarity  against  his  troops  on  all  occasions,  he  could 
no  longer  refrain,  in  justice  to  himself  and  his  army,  in 
chastising  them  as  they  deserved.  The  barbarities  con- 
sisted in  the  frequent  scalping  and  mutilating  of  sentinels 
and  men  on  outpost  duty,  which  were  perpetrated  alike 
by  the  Canadians  and  Indians.  Wolfe's  object  was  two- 
fold; first,  to  cause  the  militia  to  desert,  and,  secondly, 
to  exhaust  the  colony. 

Accordingly  the  rangers,  light  artillery,  and  High- 
landers were  sent  out  in  all  directions  to  waste  the  settle- 
ments wherever  resistance  was  offered.    Farmhouses 


mm 


fl^^^^ 


mmn^^ 


mn 


QUEBEC. 


»«s 


and  villages  were  laid  in  ashes,  although  the  churches 
were  generally  spared.  Wolfe's  orders  were  strict  that 
women  and  children  were  to  be  treated  with  honor.  "  If 
any  violence  is  offered  to  a  woman  the  offender  shall  be 
punished  with  death."  These  orders  were  obeyed,  and 
except  in  one  instance  none  but  armed  men  in  the  act  of 
resistance  were  killed. 

Vaudreuil  in  his  dispatches  home  loudly  denounced 
these  barbarities;  but  he  himself  was  answerable  for 
atrocities  incomparably  worse  and  on  a  far  larger  scale, 
for  he  had  for  years  sent  his  savages,  red  and  white, 
along  a  frontier  of  six  hundred  miles  to  waste,  burn,  and 
murder  at  will,  and  these,  as  he  was  perfectly  aware, 
spared  neither  age  nor  sex.  Montcalm  was  not  to  be 
moved  from  his  position  by  the  sight  of  the  smoke  of  the 
burning  villages.  He  would  not  risk  the  loss  of  all 
Canada  for  the  sake  of  a  few  hundred  farmhouses. 

Seeing  the  impossibility  of  a  successful  attack  below 
the  town,  Wolfe  determined  to  attempt  operatior:  on 
a  large  scale  above  it.  Accordingly  with  every  fair  w^nd 
and  tide  ships  and  transports  ran  the  gantlet  of  the  bat- 
teries of  Quebec,  and  covered  by  a  hot  fire  from  Point 
Levi  generally  succeeded  with  more  or  less  damage  in 
getting  above  the  town.  A  fleet  of  flat-boats  was  also 
sent  up,  and  1200  troops  marched  overland  under  Briga- 
dier Murray  to  embark  in  them. 

To  meet  this  danger  above  the  town  Bougainville  was 
sent  from  the  camp  at  Beauport  with  1500  men.  Murray 
made  another  descent  at  Pointe-aux-Trembles,  but  was 
repulsed  with  loss.  He  tried  a  second  time  at  another 
place,  but  a  body  of  ambushed  Canadians  poured  so 
heavy  a  fire  into  the  boats  that  he  was  forced  to  fall  back 
again  with  considerable  loss. 

His  third  attempt  was  more  successful,  for  he  landed 
at  Deschambault  and  burned  a  large  building  filled  with 
stores,  and  with  all  the  spare  baggage  of  the  officers  of 
the  French  regular  troops.  Vaudreuil  now  regretted 
having  sent  the  French  frigates  Up  the  river  and  with- 
drawing their  crews  to  work  in  the  batteries.    Had  they: 


..m 


904 


WITH  MrOLrS  m  CAKADA. 


been  kept  just  above  the  town  they  could  have  over- 
powered the  English  vessels  as  they  passed  up. 

The  sailors  were  now  sent  up  to  man  their  ships  again; 
but  Admiral  Holmes,  who  had  taken  command  o?  the 
ships  of  war  above  Quebec,  was  already  too  strong  for 
them,  and  the  sailors  were  recalled  to  Quebec.  Both 
armies  were  suffering.  Dysentery  and  fever  had  broken 
out  in  the  English  camp,  and  the  number  of  effective 
men  was  greatly  reduced.  Upon  the  other  hand  the 
French  were  suffering  from  shortness  of  supplies.  The 
English  frigates  above  the  town  prevented  food  being 
brought  down  from  Montreal  in  boats,  and  difficulties 
of  land  carriage  were  very  great. 

The  Canadians  deserted  in  great  numbers,  and  Mont- 
calm's force  had  been  weakened  by  the  dispatch  of  Levis 
to  assist  in  checking  the  advance  of  Amherst.  The 
latter  had  captured  Ticonderoga  and  Crown  Point. 
Niagara  had  also  been  taken  by  the  English.  Amherst, 
however,  fell  back  again,  and  Levis  was  able  to  rejoin 
Montcalm.  But  the  greatest  misfortune  which  befell 
the  English  was  the  dangerous  illness  of  Wolfe,  who, 
always  suffering  from  disease,  was  for  a  time  utterly 
prostrate. 

At  the  end  of  August,  however,  he  partially  recovered 
and  dictated  a  letter  to  his  three  brigadier-generals,  ask- 
ing them  to  fix  upon  one  of  three  plans  which  he  laid 
before  them  for  attacking  the  enemy.  The  first  was  that 
the  army  should  march  eight  or  ten  miles  up  the  Mont- 
morenci,  ford  the  river,  and  fall  upon  the  rear  of  the 
enemy.  The  second  was  to  cross  the  ford  at  the  mouth 
of  the  Montmorenci  and  march  along  the  shore  until 
a  spot  was  found  where  the  heights  could  be  climbed. 
The  third  was  to  make  a  general  attack  from  the  boats 
upon  Beauport. 

Monckton,  Townshend,  and  Murray  met  in  consulta- 
tion, and  considered  all  the  plans  to  be  hopeless;  but 
they  proposed  that  an  attempt  should  be  made  to  land 
above  the  town,  and*  so  to  place  the  army  between 
Quebec  and  its  base  of  supplies,  thereby  forcing  Mont- 


^ 


QUEBEC. 


»«s 


I 


calm  to  fight  or  to  surrender.  The  attempt  seemed  a 
desperate  ^ne,  but  Wolfe  determined  to  adopt  it.  He 
had  not  much  hope  of  its  succeeding,  but  should  it  not 
do  so  there  was  nothing  for  him  but  to  sail  with  his 
weakened  army  back  to  England. 

He  therefore  determined  at  last  to  make  the  attempt, 
and  implored  his  physician  to  patch  him  up,  so  that  he 
could  in  person  take  the  command. 

"  I  know  perfectly  well  that  you  cannot  cure  me,"  he 
wrote;  "  but  pray  make  me  up  so  that  I  may  be  without 
pain  for  a  few  days  and  able  to  do  my  duty.  That  is  all 
I  want." 

On  the  3d  of  September  Wolfe  took  the  tlrst  steps 
toward  the  carrying  out  of  his  plans  by  evacuating  the 
camp  at  Montmorenci.  Montcalm  sent  a  strong  force 
to  attack  him  as  he  was  moving;  but  Monckton  at  Point 
Levi  saw  the  movement,  and,  embarking  two  battalions 
in  boats,  made  a  feint  of  landing  at  Beauport.  Mont- 
calm recalled  his  troops  to  repulse  the  threatened  attack, 
and  the  English  were  able  to  draw  off  from  Mont- 
morenci without  molestation. 

On  the  night  of  the  4th  a  fleet  of  flat-boats  passed 
above  the  town  with  the  baggage  and  stores.  On  the 
5th  the  infantry  marched  up  by  land,  and  the  lited 
force  of  some  3600  men  embarked  on  board  the  ships 
of  Admiral  Holmes.  The  French  thought  that  the  aban-* 
donment  cf  Montmorenci  and  the  embarkation  of  tho 
troops  was  a  sign  that  the  English  were  about  to  aban- 
don their  enterprise  and  sail  for  England.  Nevertheless, 
Montcalm  did  not  relax  his  vigilance,  being  ever  on  the 
watch,  riding  from  post  to  post  to  see  that  all  was  in 
readiness  to  repel  an  attack. 

In  one  of  his  letters  at  this  time  he  mentioned  that  he 
had  not  taken  oflf  his  clothes  since  the  23d  of  June. 

He  now  reinforced  the  troops  under  Bougainville 
above  Quebec  to  3000  men.  He  had  little  fear  for  the 
heights  near  the  town,  believing  them  to  be  inaccessible, 
and  that  100  men  could  stop  a  whole  army.  This  he 
gaid  especially  in  reference  to  the  one  spot  which  pre- 


f?"i.iC-.-  •r^'■^ 


i'_n.Vfi,.;.  i'r"". 


i£ci..i:;j 


286 


WITH  WOLPE  Xir  CANADA. 


sented  at  least  a  possibility  of  being  scaled.  Here 
Captain  de  Vergor,  with  100  Canadian  troops,  were 
posted. 

The  battalion  of  Guienne  had  been  ordered  to  en- 
camp close  at  hand,  and  the  post,  which  was  called 
Anse-du-Foulon,  was  but  a  mile  and  a  half  distant  from 
Quebec.  Thus,  although  hoping  that  the  English  would 
soon  depart,  the  French,  knowing  the  character  of  Wolfe, 
made  every  preparation  against  a  last  attack  before  he 
started. 

From  the  7th  to  the  12th  Holmes*  fleet  sailed  up  and 
down  the  river,  threatening  a  landing  now  at  one  point 
and  now  at  another,  wearing  out  the  French,  who  were 
kept  night  and  day  on  the  qui  znve,  and  were  exhausted 
by  following  the  ships  up  and  down  so  as  to  be  ready 
to  oppose  a  landing  wherever  it  might  be  made. 

James  Walsham's  regiment  formed  part  of  Monck- 
ton's  brigade,  and  his  colonel  had  frequently  selected 
him  to  command  parties  who  went  out  to  the  Canadian 
villages,  as  from  the  knowledge  he  had  acquired  of 
irregular  warfare,  he  could  be  trusted  not  to  suffer  him- 
self to  be  surprised  by  the  parties  of  Canadians  or  In- 
diar  s,  who  were  always  on  the  watch  to  cut  off  detach- 
ments sent  out  from  the  British  camp.  There  were  still 
ten  men  in  the  regiment  who  had  formed  part  of  his 
band  on  the  lakes;  these  were  drafted  into  his  company, 
and  whatever  force  went  out  they  always  accompanied 
him. 

Although  James  had  seen  much  and  heard  more  of 
the  terrible  i.  irbarities  perpetrated  by  the  Canadians  and 
their  Indians  allies  on  the  frontier,  he  lamented  much  the 
necessity  which  compelled  Wolfe  to  order  the  destruction 
of  Canadian  villages;  and  when  engaged  on  this  service, 
whether  in  command  of  the-  detachment,  or  as  a  subal- 
tern if  more  than  one  company  went  out,  he  himself  never 
superintended  the  painful  work;  but  with  his  ten  men 
scouted  beyoiid  the  village  and  kept  a  vigilant  lookout 
against  surprise. 

In  this  way  he  had  severs^  skirmishes  with  the  Cana* 


QUEBEC. 


987 


dians,  but  the  latter  never  succeeded  in  surprising  any 
force  to  which  he  v/as  attached.  Walsham  and  his  scouts 
were  often  sent  out  with  parties  from  other  regiments, 
and  General  Monckton  was  so  pleased  with  his  vigilance 
and  activity  that  he  specially  mentioned  him  to  General 
Wolfe,  at  the  same  time  telHng  him  of  the  services  he  had 
performed  on  the  lakes  and  the  very  favorable  reports 
which  had  been  made  by  Johnson,  Monro,  Lord  Howe, 
and  Abercrombie  of  the  work  done  by  the  corp:  which 
he  had  organized  and  commanded. 

"  I  wish  we  had  a  few  more  officers  trained  to  this  sort 
of  warfare,"  General  Wolfe  said.  "  Send  him  on  board 
the  Sutherland  to-morrow.  I  have  some  service  which 
he  is  well  fitted  to  carry  out." 

James  accordingly  repaired  on  board  the  Sutherland 
and  was  conducted  to  the  general's  cabin.  "  General 
Moncivton  has  spoken  to  me  in  high  terms  of  you.  Lieu- 
tenant Walsham,  and  he  tells  me  that  you  have  been 
several  times  mentioned  in  dispatches  by  the  generals 
under  whom  you  served,  and  you  were  with  Braddock 
as  well  as  with  Johnson,  Howe,  and  Abercrombie,  and 
with  Monro  at  the  siege  of  Fort  William  Henry.  How 
is  it  that  so  young  an  officer  should  have  seen  so  much 
service?  " 

James  informed  him  how,  having  been  pressed  on 
board  a  man-of-war,  he  had  been  dischaiged,  in  accord- 
ance with  orders  from  home,  and  hearing  that  his*  friends 
were  going  to  obtain  a  commission  for  him  in  a  regiment 
under  orders  for  America,  he  had  thought  it  best  to 
utilize  his  time  by  accompanying  General  Braddock  as 
a  volunteer,  in  order  to  learn  something  of  forest  war- 
fare; that,  after  that  disastrous  affair,  he  had  served  with 
Johnson  in  a  similar  capacity,  until  on  his  regiment  arriv- 
ing he  had  been  selected  to  drill  a  company  of  scouts,  and 
had  served  with  them  on  the  lakes  until  the  ci>rps  was 
broken  up  whea  the  regiment  sailed  for  Canada. 

"  In  fact,  you  have  seen  more  of  this  kind  of  warfare 
than  any  officer  in  the  army,"  General  Wolfe  said. 
"  Your  special  services  ought  to  have  been  recognized 


>I.v■■^«WlS^  s..,-^' 


^^t^V^T^T^*?]- '  ^'1 


5P> 


,W^.' 


■.' ■' 


add 


WITH  WOLP]^  III  CAMa1>A. 


before.  I  shall  have  you  put  in  orders  to-morrow  as 
promoted  to  the  rank  of  captain.  And  now  I  am  about 
to  employ  you  upon  a  service  which,  if  you  are  successful, 
will  give  you  your  brevet  majority.  There  must  be  some 
points  at  which  those  precipices  can  be  climbed.  I  want 
you  to  find  out  where  they  are.  It  is  a  service  of  great 
danger.  You  will  go  in  uniform,  otherwise  if  caught 
you  would  meet  with  the  fate  of  a  spy;  but  at  the  same 
time,  even  in  uniform  you  would  probably  meet  with 
but  little  mercy  if  you  fell  into  the  hands  of  the  Cana- 
dians or  Indians.  Would  you  be  willing  to  undertake 
such  a  duty?  ** 

"  I  will  try,  sir,"  James  said.  "  Do  you  wish  me  to 
start  to-night?  " 

"  No,"  the  general  replied;  "  you  had  better  think  the 
matter  over,  and  let  me  know  to-morrow  how  you  had 
best  proceed.  It  is  not  an  enterprise  to  be  undertaken 
without  thinking  it  over  in  every  light.  You  will  have 
to  decide  whether  you  will  go  alone  or  take  anyone  with 
you,  when  and  how  you  will  land,  how  you  will  regain 
the  ships.  You  will,  of  course,  have  carte  blanche  in  all 
respects." 

After  James  had  returned  on  shore  he  thought  the 
matter  over  in  every  light,  He  knew  that  the  French 
had  many  sentries  along  the  edge  of  the  river,  for  boats 
which  at  night  went  over  toward  that  side  of  the  river 
were  always  challenged  and  fired  upon.  The  chance 
of  landing  undetected,  therefore,  seemed  but  slight ;  nor, 
even  did  he  land,  would  he  be  likely  at  night  to  discover 
the  paths,  which  could  be  little  more  than  tracks  up  the 
heights. 

Had  he  been  able  to  speak  Canadian  French  the  matter 
would  have  been  easy  enough,  as  he  could  have  landed 
higher  up  the  river,  and,  dressed  as  a  Canadian  farmer, 
have  made  his  way  through  the  French  lines  without 
suspicion.  But  he  knew  nothing  of  French,  and  even 
had  he  spoken  the  language  fluently  there  was  sufficient 
difference  between  the  Canadian  French  and  the  lan- 
guage of  the  old  country  for  the  first  Canadian  who 


QUEBEC. 


389 


to 


I 


spoke  to  him  to  have  detected  the  difference.  Nor  could 
he  pass  as  an  Indian;  for  although  he  had  picked  up 
enough  of  the  language  to  converse  with  the  redskin 
allies  of  the  English  on  the  lakes,  the  first  Indian  who 
spoke  to  him  would  detect  the  difference;  and,  indeed, 
it  needed  a  far  more  intimate  acquaintance  with  the  vari- 
ous tribes  than  he  possessed  for  him  to  be  able  to  paint 
and  adorn  himself  so  as  to  deceive  the  vigilant  eyes  of 
the  French  Indians. 

Had  his  two  followers,  Nat  and  Jonathan,  been  with 
him  they  could  have  painted  and  dressed  him  so  that 
he  could  have  passed  muster,  but  in  their  absence  he 
abandoned  the  idea  as  out  of  the  question.  The  pros- 
pect certainly  did  not  seem  hopeful. 

After  long  thought  it  seemed  to  him  that  the  only  way 
which  promised  even  a  chance  o'  success  would  be  for 
him  to  be  taken  prisoner  by  the  French  soldiers.  Once 
fairly  within  their  lines  half  the  difficulty  was  over;  he 
had  learned  to  crawl  as  noiselessly  as  an  Indian,  and  he 
doubted  not  that  he  should  be  able  to  succeed  in  getting 
away  from  any  place  of  confinement  in  which  they  might 
place  him.  Then  he  could  follow  the  top  of  the  heights, 
and  the  position  of  the  sentries  or  of  any  body  of  men 
encamped  there  would  in  itself  be  a  guide  to  him  as  to 
the  existence  of  paths  to  the  strand  below.  The  first 
step  was  the  most  difficult.  How  should  he  manage 
to  get  himself  taken  prisoner?  And  this  was  the  more 
difficult  as  it  was  absolutely  necessarj'^  that  he  should 
fall  into  the  hands  of  French  regulars  and  not  of  the 
Canadians,  who  would  finish  the  matter  at  once  by  killing 
and  scalping  him. 

The  next  morning  he  again  went  off  to  the  Suther- 
land. H*^  was  in  high  spirits,  for  his  name  had  appeared 
in  orders  as  captain  and  as  appointed  assistant  quarter- 
master-general on  the  headquarter  staff.  On  entering 
the  general's  cabin  he  thanked  him  for  the  promotion. 

"  You  have  earned  it  over  and  over  again,"  the  general 
said ;  "  there  are  no  thanks  due  to  me.  Now,  have  you 
thought  out  a  plan?  " 


,MV,ir«IBk',rt-SA^.'»lH3-««il 


j^fnrne^nsamit/itfiff^i^ 


iiWni'rir.ffi!;'*iyi'Tri''iyf>piviM'^tgljJii!' 


p..«'jiM..»»-*«iiii«ni)i..i»ik.v-».  *.aii-  -.▼•'■'^'tEM 


>^^-^-r"v  ,^r.-<i 


990 


WITH  WOLFB  IN  CANADA. 


James  briefly  stated  the  difHculties  which  he  perceived 
in  the  way  of  any  other  scheme  than  that  of  getting  him- 
self taken  prisoner  by  the  French,  and  showed  that  that 
was  the  only  plan  that  seemed  to  offer  even  a  chance  of 
success. 

"  But  you  may  not  be  able  to  escape,"  Wolfe  said. 

"  I  may  not,"  James  replied,  "  and  in  that  case,  sir, 
I  must  of  course  remain  a  prisoner  until  you  take  Quebec 
or  I  am  exchanged.  Even  then  you  would  be  no  worse 
off  than  you  are  at  present,  for  I  must  of  course  be  taken 
prisoner  at  some  point  where  the  French  are  in  force 
and  where  you  do  not  mean  to  land.  My  presence  tiiere 
would  give  them  no  clew  whatever  to  your  real  inten- 
tions, whereas  were  I  taken  prisoner  anjrwhere  along 
the  shore  they  would  naturally  redouble  their  vigilance, 
as  they  would  guess  that  I  was  looking  for  some  way  of 
ascending  the  heights." 

"  How  do  you  propose  being  tak^n?  "  Wolfe  asked. 

"  My  idea  was,"  James  replied,  *  that  I  should  land 
with  a  party  near  Cap  Rouge  as  if  to  reconnoiter  the 
French  position  there.  We  should  of  course  be  speedily 
discovered,  and  would  then  retreat  to  the  boats.  I 
should  naturally  be  the  last  to  go,  and  might  well  manage 
to  be  cut  off." 

"  Yes,"  Wolfe  replied,  "  but  you  might  also,  and  that 
far  more  easily,  manage  to  get  shot.  I  don't  think  that 
would  do.  Captain  Walsham;  the  risks  would  be  twenty 
to  one  against  your  escaping  being  shot.  Can  you  thin^ 
of  no  other  plan?  " 

"  The  only  other  plan  that  I  can  think  of,"  James  said, 
"  might  involve  others  being  taken  prisoners.  I  might 
row  in  toward  Cap  Rouge  in  broad  daylight  as  if  to 
examine  the  landing  place,  and  should  of  course  draw 
their  fire  upon  the  boat.  Before  starting  I  should  fire 
two  or  three  shots  into  the  boat  close  to  the  water  line 
and  afterward  plug  them  up  with  rags;  then  when  their 
fire  became  heavy  I  should  take  the  plugs  out  and  let 
th^  bodt  £11    As  sh^  did  ^p  J  cpuld  $hout  th;at  I  surrejo- 


QUEBEC. 


391 


.;-« 


dered  and  then  we  could  drift  till  we  neared  the  shore  in 
the  water-logged  boat,  or  swim  ashore.  I  can  swim  well 
myself,  and  should,  of  course,  want  four  men  who  could 
swim  well  also  picked  out  as  the  crew." 

"  The  plan  is  a  dangerous  one,"  Wolfe  said,  "  but  less 
so  than  the  other.'* 

"One  cannot  win  a  battle  without  risking  life,  sir," 
Tames  said  quietly.  "  Some  of  us  might,  of  course,  be 
nit,  but  as  we  risk  our  lives  whenever  we  get  within 
range  .of  the  enemy  I  do  not  see  that  that  need  be  con- 
sidered; at  any  rate,  sir,  I  am  ready  to  make  the  attempt 
if  the  plan  has  your  approval." 

"  I  tell  you  frankly,  Captain  Walsham,  that  I  think 
your  chances  jDf  success  are  absolutely.  m7.  At  the  same 
time  there  is  just  a  faint  possibility  that  you  may  get 
ashore  alive,  escape  from  the  French,  discover  a  path- 
way, and  bring  me  the  news;  and  as  the  only  chance  of 
the  expedition  being  successful  now  depends  upon  our 
discovering  such  a  path,  I  am  not  justified  in  refusing 
even  this  faint  chance." 

The  general  touched  a  bell  which  stood  on  the  tabl« 
before  him. 

"  Will  you  ask  the  captain  to  come  here?  "  he  said  to 
the  officer  who  answered  the  summons. 

"  Captain  Peters,"  he  said,  when  the  captain  appeared, 
"  I  want  you  to  pick  out  for  me  four  men  upon  whom 
you  can  thoroughly  rely.  In  the  first  place  they  must 
be  good  swimmers,  in  the  second  place  they  must  be  able 
to  hold  their  tongues,  and  lastly  they  must  be  prepared 
to  pass  some  months  in  a  French  prison.  A  midship- 
man with  the  same  qualifications  will  be  required  to  go 
with  them." 

The  captain  naturally  looked  surprised  at  so  unusual 
a  request. 

"  Captain  Walsham  is  going  to  be  taken  prisoner  by 
the  French,"  General  Wolfe  explained,  "and  the  only 
way  it  can  beMone  is  for  a  whole  boat's  crew  to  be  taken 
mib  him^"  and  he  then  detailed  the  plan  which  had  beei» 


/ 


9ff 


WITH  WOLFE  IN  CANADA. 


arranged.  "  Of  course  you  can  offer  the  men  any  reward 
you  may  think  ht,  and  can  promise  the  midshipman 
early  promotion/*  he  concluded. 

**  Very  well,  general;  I  have  no  doubt  I  can  find  four 
men  and  a  midshipman  willing  to  volunteer  for  the  affair, 
especially  as,  if  you  succeed,  their  imprisonment  will  be 
a  short  one.    When  will  the  attempt  be  made?  " 

"  If  you  can  drift  up  the  river  as  far  as  Cap  Rouge 
before  daylight,"  James  said,  in  answer  to  an  inquiring 
look  from  the  general,  "we  will  attempt  it  to-morrow 
morning.  I  should  say  that  the  best  plan  would  be  for 
me  to  appear  opposite  their  camp  when  day  breaks,  as 
if  I  was  trying  to  obtain  a  close  view  of  it  in  the  early 
morning." 

"The  sooner  the  better,"  General  Wolfe  said;  " every 
day  is  of  importance.  But  how  do  you  propose  to  get 
back  again,  that  is  supposing  that  everything  goes 
well?" 

"  I  propose,  general,  that  I  should  conceal  myself 
somewhere  on  the  face  of  the  heights.  I  will  spread  a 
handkerchief  against  a  rock  or  tree  so  that  it  will  not  be 
seen  either  from  above  or  below,  but  will  be  visible  from 
the  ships  in  the  river.  I  cannot  say,  of  course,  whether 
it  will  be  near  Cap  Rouge  or  Quebec;  but  if  you  will  have 
a  sharp  lookout  kept  through  a  glass  as  the  ships  drift 
up  and  down  you  are  sure  to  see  it,  and  can  let  me  know 
that  you  do  so  by  dipping  the  ensign.  At  night  I  will 
make  my  way  down  to  the  shore,  and  if  at  midnight 
exactly  you  will  send  a  boat  for  me  I  shall  be  ready  to 
swim  off  to  her  when  they  show  a  lantern  as  they 
approach  the  shore.  Of  course  I  cannot  say  on  what 
day  I  may  be  in  a  position  to  show  the  signal,  but  at  any 
rate  it  a  week  passes  without  your  seeing  it  you  will  know 
that  I  have  failed  to  make  my  escape,  or  that  I  have  been 
killed  after  getting  out." 


i  l>A>lOSttOU8  tXPfiDlTIOll. 


m 


CHAPTER  XIX. 


A  DANGEROUS  EXPEDITION. 

The  details  of  the  proposed  exp«^dition  being  thus 
arranged  the  captain  left  the  cabin  with  James,  and  the 
latter  paced  to  and  fro  on  the  quarterdeck  while  the 
captain  sent  for  the  boatswain  and  directed  him  to  pick 
put  four  men  who  could  swim  well  and  who  were  ready 
to  volunteer  for  desperate  service. 

While  the  captain  was  so  engaged  James  saw  a  naval 
officer  staring  fixedly  at  him.  He  recognized  him 
instantly,  though  more  than  four  years  had  elapsed  since 
he  had  last  seen  him.  He  at  once  stepped  across  the 
quarterdeck. 

"  How  are  you,  Lieutenant  Horton?  it  is  a  long  time 
since  we  last  parted  on  the  Potomac." 

Horton  would  have  refused  the  proffered  hand,  but 
he  had  already  injured  himself  very  sorely  in  the  eyes  of 
the  squire  by  his  outburst  of  ill-feeling  against  James, 
so  he  shook  hands  and  said  coldly: 

"  Yes;  your  positioi  has  changed  since  then." 

"  Yes,"  James  said  with  a  laugh,  "  but  that  was  only 
a  temporary  eclipse.  That  two  months  before  the  mast 
was  a  sort  of  interlude  for  which  I  am  deeply  thankful. 
Had  it  not  been  for  my  getting  into  that  smuggling 
scrape  I  should  have  been  at  the  present  moment  com- 
mencing practice  as  a  doctor  instead  of  being  a  captain 
in  His  Majesty's  service." 

The  words  were  not  calculated  to  improve  Horton's 
temper.  What  a  mistake  he  had  made!  Had  he  inter- 
fered on  James  Walsham's  behalf — ^and  a  word  from 
him  saying  that  James  was  the  son  of  a  medical  man 
and  was  assuredly  mixed  up  in  this  smuggling  affair 
only  by  accident — he  would  have  been  released.  He 
had  not  spoken  that  word,  and  the  consequence  was  he 
had  himself  fallen  into  bad  odor  with  the  squire,  and 
James  Walsham,  instead  of  drudging  away  as  a  country 


■   "'(  '»■' 


^94 


WITH  Wolfs  is  cakada. 


practitioner,  was  an  officer  of  rank  equal  to  himsiclf,  fof 
he  as  second  lieutenant  in  the  Sutherland  ranked  with 
a  captain  in  the  army. 

Not  only  this,  but  whenever  he  went  to  Sidmouth  he 
had  heard  how  James  had  been  mentioned  in  the  dis- 
patches and  how  much  he  was  distinguishing  himself. 
Everything  seemed  to  combine  against  him.  He  had 
hated  James  Walsham  from  the  day  when  the  latter  had 
thrashed  him  and  had  acted  as  Aggie's  champion  a£  linst 
him;  he  had  hated  him  more  when  he  found  Aggie 
installed  as  the  squire's  heiress,  and  saw  how  high  James 
stood  in  her  good  graces,  and  that  he  had  been  taken 
up  by  the  squire. 

He  had  hoped  that  he  had  gained  the  advantage  over 
him  when  he  had  come  back  a  naval  officer,  while  James 
wa-  still  a  schoolboy  and  had  kept  aloof  from  the  house 
while  he  devoted  himself  to  the  young  heiress.  Every- 
thing had  seemed  going  on  well  with  his  plans  until  the 
very  circumstance  which  at  the  time  seemed  so  oppor- 
tune, namely,  the  pressing  James  as  a  seaman  on  board 
the  ThetiSy  had  turned  out  so  disastrous.  The  letter  in 
which  he  had  suffered  his  exultation  to  appear  had 
angered  the  squire,  had  set  Mrs.  Walsham  and  her 
friend  the  ex-sergeant  against  him,  and  had  deeply 
offended  Aggie.  It  had,  too,  enabled  the  squire  to  take 
instant  measures  for  procuring  James'  discharge,  and 
had  now  placed  the  latter  in  a  position  equal  to  his 
own. 

James,  on  his  part,  did  not  like  Richard  Horton,  but 
he  felt  no  active  animosity  against  him.  He  had  got 
the  best  of  it  in  that  first  quarrel  of  theirs,  and  although 
he  had  certainly  felt  very  sore  and  angry  at  the  time 
Richard  was  staying  at  the  Hall  and  seemed  to  have 
taken  his  place  altogether  as  Aggie's  friend,  this  feeling 
had  long  since  died  away,  for  he  knew  frOm  the  letters 
of  Mr.  Wllks  that  Aggie  had  no  liking  whatever  for 
Richard  Horton. 

"  You  were  at  Sidmouth  in  the  spring,  I  heard,"  he 
9aid;  "you  found  my  mother  looking  well;  I  hope?" 


A  DANOIROUS  EXPEDITION. 


295 


"Yes,  I  was  there  a  fortnight  before  we  sailed," 
Richard  said.     **  I  think  she  was  looking  about  as  usual." 

For  a  few  minutes  they  talked  in  a  stiff  and  somewhat 
constrained  tone,  for  Richard  could  not  bring  himself  to 
speak  cordially  to  this  man  whom  he  regarded  as  a  dan- 
gerous rival.     Presently  the  captain  came  up  to  them. 

"  I  have  picked  four  volunteers  for  your  work,  Captain 
Walsham.  They  were  somewhat  surprised  at  first  to 
find  that  they  were  required  for  a  bout  in  a  French 
prison ;  but  sailors  are  always  ready  for  any  hare-brained 
adventure,  and  they  made  no  objection  whatever  when 
I  explained  what  they  would  have  to  do.  Next  to  fight- 
ing a  Frenchman  there's  nothing  a  sailor  likes  so  much 
as  taking  him  in.  Young  Middleton  goes  in  command 
of  the  boat ;  he  is  a  regular  young  pickle,  and  is  as  pleased 
at  the  prospect  as  if  a  French  prison  were  the  most  amus- 
ing place  in  the  world.  He  knows,  of  course,  that  there 
will  be  some  considerable  danger  of  his  being  shot  before 
he  is  taken  prisoner;  but  I  need  hardly  say  that  the  dan- 
ger adds  to  the  interest  in  the  scheme.  It's  a  risky  busi- 
ness you  have  undertaken.  Captain  Walsham,  terribly 
risky ;  but  if  you  succeed  you  will  have  saved  the  expedi- 
tion from  turning  out  a  failure,  and  we  shall  all  be  under 
obligations  to  you  for  the  rest  of  our  lives.  Has  Captain 
Walsham  told  you  what  he  is  undertaking,  Mr.  Horton?  " 

"No,  sir." 

"  He  is  going  to  get  taken  prisoner  in  the  gig  in"  order 
that  he  may,  if  possible,  give  the  French  the  slip  again, 
find  out  some  way  down  that  line  of  cliflFs,  and  so  enable 
the  general  to  get  into  the  heart  of  the  French  situa- 
tion. It  is  a  grand  scheme,  but  a  risky  one.  The 
chances  are  a  hundred  to  one  against  you.  Captain 
Walsham." 

"That  is  just  what  the  general  said,"  James  replied 
with  a  smile.  "  I  don't  think  myself  they  are  more  than 
five  to  one  against  me;  but  even  if  they  were  a  thousand 
it  would  be  worth  trying,  for  a  thousand  lives  would  be 
cheaply  sacrificed  to  iiisure  the  success  of  this  expedi- 
tion." 


'i^K 


3d 


tptf 


WITH  WOLFE  IN  CANADA. 


"  There  are  not  many  men  who  would  like  to  try  it/* 
the  captain  said.  "  I  say  honestly  I  shouldn't  myself. 
,  Anything  in  the  nature  of  duty,  whether  it's  laying  your 
ship  alongside  a  Frenchman  of  twice  her  weight  of  metal, 
or  a  boat  expedition  to  cut  out  a  frigate  from  under  the 
p^ns  of  a  battery,  I  should  be  ready  to  take  my  share 
m;  but  an  expedition  like  yours,  to  be  carried  out  alone, 
in  cold  blood  and  in  the  dark,  I  should  have  no  stomach 
for.  I  don't  want  to  discourage  you,  and  I  honor  your 
courage  in  undertaking  it,  but  I  am  heartily  glad  that 
the  general  did  not  propose  to  me  instead  of  to  you  to 
undertake  it." 

"  You  would  have  done  it  if  he  had,  sir,"  James  said, 
smiling,  "and  so  would  any  officer  of  this  expedition. 
I  consider  myself  most  highly  honored  in  the  general 
intrusting  me  with  the  mission.  Besides,  you  must 
remember  that  it  is  not  so  strange  to  me  as  it  would 
be  to  most  men.  I  have  been  for  four  years  engaged  in 
forest  warfare,  scouting  at  night  in  the  woods,  and  keep- 
ing my  ears  open  to  the  slightest  sound  which  might 
tell  of  a  skulking  redskin  being  at  hand.  My  eyes  have 
become  so  accustomed  to  darkness,  that,  although  still 
very  far  short  of  those  of  the  Indians,  I  can  see  plainly 
where  one  unaccustomed  to  such  work  would  see 
nothing.  I  am  accustomed  to  rely  upon  my  own  senses, 
to  step  noiselessly,  or  to  crawl  along  on  the  ground  like 
an  Indian.  Therefore,  you  see,  to  me  this  enterprise 
does  i.ot  present  itself  in  the  same  light  as  it  naturally 
would  to  you." 

"  You  may  make  light  of  it,"  the  captain  said,  "  but 
it's  a  dangerous  business,  look  at  it  as  you  will.  Well, 
if  >ou  go  through  it  safely.  Captain  Walsham,  you  will 
be  the  hero  of  this  campaign." 

Late  in  the  afternoon  the  tide  turned,  and  the  vessels 
began  to  drift  up  the  river.  The  four  sailors  had  of 
course  mentioned  to  their  comrades  the  service  upon 
which  they  were  about  to  be  engaged.  The  captain  had 
not  thought  it  necessary  to  enjoin  secrecy  upon  them, 
for  there  was  no  communication  with  the  shore,  no  fear 


»-JflHO:^^*^(!»p;; 


A  DAKOEftOUS  iX^EDtTION. 


207 


of  the  knowledge  spreading  beyond  the  ship;  besides,  the 
boat  had  to  be  damaged,  and  this  alone  would  tell  the 
sailors  when  she  was  lowered  in  the  water  that  she  was 
intended  to  be  captured.  A  marine  was  called  up  to 
where  the  captain's  gig  was  hanging  from  the  davits, 
James  pointed  out  a  spot  just  below  the  water-line,  ^nd 
the  man,  standing  a  yard  or  two  away,  fired  at  it,  the  ball 
making  a  hole  through  both  sides  of  the  boat.  Another 
shot  was  fired  two  or  three  inches  higher,  and  the  four 
holes  were  then  plugged  up  with  oakum. 

All  was  now  in  rjadiness  for  the  attempt  James 
dined  with  Captain  I'eters,  the  first  lieutenant  and  four 
officers  of  the  general's  staff  being  also  present,  General 
Wolfe  himself  being  too  ill  to  be  at  table,  and  Admiral 
Holmes  having  early  in  the  morning  gone  down  the 
river  to  confer  with  Admiral  Saunders. 

"  I  drink  good  health  and  a  safe  return  to  you.  Captain 
Walsham,  for  our  sake  as  well  as  your  own.  As  a  general 
thing,  when  an  officer  is  chosen  for  dangerous  service 
he  is  an  object  of  envy  by  all  his  comrades;  but  for  once 
I  do  not  think  anyone  on  board  would  care  to  undertake 
your  mission." 

"Why,  sir,  your  little  midshipman  is  delighted  at 
going  with  me.  He  and  I  have  been  chatting  the  matter 
over  and  he  is  in  the  highest  glee." 

"Ah!  he  has  only  got  the  first  chance  of  being  shot 
at,"  Captain  Peters  said.  "That  comes  in  the  line  of 
duty,  and  I  hope  there  isn't  an  officer  on  board  a  ship 
but  would  volunteer  at  once  for  that  service.  But  your 
real  danger  only  begins  when  his  ends.  By  the  way," 
he  asked,  as,  after  dinner  was  over,  he  was  walking  up 
and  down  the  quarterdeck  talking  to  James,  "  have  you 
and  Lieutenant  Horton  met  before?  I  thought  you 
seemed  to  know  each  other  when  I  came  up,  but  since 
then  I  have  noticed  that  while  all  the  other  officers  of  the 
ship  have  been  chatting  with  you  he  has  kept  aloof." 

"  We  knew  each  other  at  home,  sir,"  James  said,  "  but 
we  were  never  very  good  friends.  Our  acquaintance- 
ship commenced  when  we  were  boys  with  a  fight.    I  got 


SS!E33».N44: 


:A.m. 


if'^  "w«;'t»' '  II  .1  mg" 


»W  1 1, 1 


!"^w? 


298 


Wttll  Wotrs  IN  CAKADA. 


^g^;-: 


il 


'S<J 


s'^^-'' 


the  best  of  it,  and  Norton  has  never,  I  think,  quite  for- 
given me." 

"  I  don't  like  the  yoang  fellow,"  Captain  Peters  said 
shortly.  "  I  know  he  was  not  poj  ular  in  the  Thetis,  and 
they  say  he  showed  the  white  feather  out  in  the  East. 
I  wouldn't  have  had  him  on  board,  but  the  first  lord 
asked  me  as  a  personal  favor  to  take  him.  I  have  had 
no  reason  to  complain  of  him  since  he  joined,  but  I  know 
that  he  is  no  more  popular  among  my  other  officers  than 
he  was  in  the  Thetis." 

'*  I  never  heard  a  word  against  him,  sir,"  James  said 
earnestly.  "  His  uncle,  Mr.  Linthome,  has  large  estates 
near  Sidmouth,  and  has  been  the  kindest  friend  to  me 
and  mine.  At  one  time  it  was  thought  that  Horton 
would  be  his  heir,  but  a  granddaughter,  who  had  for 
years  been  missing,  was  found ;  but  still  Horton  will  take, 
I  should  think,  a  considerable  slice  of  the  property,  and 
it  would  grieve  the  squire  terribly  if  Horton  failed  in  his 
career.  I  think  it's  only  a  fault  of  manners,  sir,  if  I  may 
say  so,  and  certainly  I  myself  know  nothing  whatever 
against  him." 

"  I  don't  know,"  Captain  Peters  replied  thoughtfully. 
"  Just  before  I  sailed  I  happened  to  meet  an  old  friend, 
and  over  our  dinner  I  mentioned  the  names  of  my 
officers.  He  told  me  he  knew  this  Mr.  Linthorne  well, 
and  that  Horton  had  gone  to  sea  with  him  for  the  first 
time  as  a  midshipman,  and  that  there  was  certainly  some- 
thing queer  about  him  as  a  boy,  for  •  Linthome  had 
specially  asked  him  to  keep  his  eye  upon  him,  and  had 
begged  him  frankly  to  let  him  know  how  he  conducted 
himself.    That  rather  set  me  against  him,  you  know." 

"  I  don't  think  that  was  anything,"  James  urged.  "  I 
do  not  much  like  Horton,  but  I  should  not  like  you  to 
have  a  false  impression  of  him.  It  was  a  mere  boyish 
affair,  sir — in  fact  it  was  connected  with  that  fight  with 
me.  I  don't  think  he  gave  a  very  s,trictly  accurate 
account  of  it,  and  his  uncle,  who  in  some  matters  is  very 
strict,  although  one  of  the  kindest  of  men,  took  the  thing 
up  and  sent  him  awa^  to  sea.    Horton  was  certainly 


iSi. 


A  DAN6lftOt;d  iX^lDItloH. 


«W 


punished  severely  enough  for  that  stupid  business  with- 
out its  counling  against  him  afterward. 

"  I  like  the  way  you  speak  up  in  his  defense,  Captain 
Walsham,  especially  as  you  frankly  say  you  don't  like 
him,  and  henceforth  I  will  dismiss  the  aiffair  from  my 
mind,  but  I  should  say  th^t  he  has  never  forgiven  it« 
although  you  may  have  done  so." 

*'  That's  natural  enough/'  James  laughed,  **  because  I 
came  best  out  of  it.''  «• 

To  Richard  Horton  the  news  that  James  Walsham 
was  about  to  undertake  a  desperate  enterprise,  which,  if 
he  succeeded  in  it,  would  bring  him  cjeat  honor  and 
credit,  was  bitter  in  the  extreme,  and  the  admiration 
expressed  by  the  other  officers  at  his  courage  in  under- 
taking it  added  to  his  anger  and  disgust.  He  walked 
moodily  up  and  down  the  quarterdeck  all  the  afternoon 
to  think  the  matter  over,  and  at  each  moment  his  fury 
increased.  Could  he  in  any  way  have  put  a  blop  to  the 
adventure  he  would  instantly  have  done  so,  but  there 
was  no  possible  way  of  interfering. 

The  thought  that  annoyed  him  most  was  of  the 
enthusiasm  with  which  the  news  of  the  successful  termi- 
nation of  the  enterprise  would  be  received  at  Sidmouth. 
Already,  as  he  knew,  Aggie  regarded  James  as  a  hero, 
and  the  squire  was  almost  a§  proud  of  his  mention  in 
dispatches  as  if  he  had  been  his  own  son;  but  for  this 
he  cared  but  little.  It  was  Aggie's  good  opinion 
Richard  Horton  desired  to  gain.  James  Walsham  still 
thought  of  her  as  the  girl  of  twelve  he  had  last  seen,  but 
Richard  Horton  knew  her  as  almost  a  woman,  and 
Although  at  first  he  had  resolved  to  marry  her  as  his 
uncle's  heiress  he  now  really  cared  for  her  for  herself. 

On  the  visit  before  James  had  left  home  Richard  had 
felt  certain  that  his  cousin  liked  him;  but  since  that  time 
he  had  not  only  made  no  progress,  but  he  felt  that  he 
had  lost  rather  than  gained  ground.  The  girl  was 
always  friendly  with  him,  but  it  was  the  coc  friendli- 
ness of  a  cousin,  and  somehow  Richard  instinctively  felt 
James  Walsham  was  the  cause. 


■»'"ii 


rmmmnmmK'.vetMiKiiin-^^  -, 


W 


306 


With  wotF£  m  canaoa. 


In  vain  he  had  angrily  told  himself  that  it  was  absurd 
to  suppose  that  his  cousin  could  care  for  this  fellow, 
whom  she  had  only  seen  as  an  awkward  boy,  who  had 
been  content  to  stop  away  from  the  house  and  never  go 
near  her  for  weeks.  Still,  though  he  told  himself  it  was 
absurd,  he  knew  that  it  was  so.  When  the  conversation 
happened  to  turn  upon  James  she  seldom  took  any  part 
in  it;  but  P».ichard  knew  that  it  was  not  from  indiffer- 
ence as  to  the  subject.  There  was  a  soft  flush  on  her 
cheek,  a  light  in  her  eyes,  which  he  had  never  been  able 
to  call  up;  and  many  a  time  he  had  ground  his  teeth  in 
silent  rage  when  the  squire  and  Mr.  Wilks  were  discuss- 
ing the  news  received  in  James'  last  letter,  and  express- 
ing their  hopes  that  ere  iong  he  would  be  back  from 
foreign  service. 

Although  by  no  means  fond  of  encountering  dange*, 
Richard  felt  that  he  would  gladly  pick  an  open  quarrel 
with  the  man  he  regarded  as  his  rival  and  shoot  him  like 
a  dog — for  in  those  days  duels  were  matters  of  every- 
day occurrence — but  there  was  no  possibility  of  doing 
this  at  the  present  juncture;  and,  moreover,  he  knew 
that  this  would  be  the  worst  possible  way  of  ridding 
himself  of  him;  for,  were  James  to  fall  by  his  hands,  bis 
chances  of  winning  Aggie  would  be  hopelessly  extin- 
guished. 

"  No,"  he  said  to  himself,  "  that  is  out  of  the  question; 
but  I  will  do  something.  Come  what  may,  he  shall 
never  go  back  to  Sidmouth." 

The  squadron  drifted  up  beyond  Cap  Rouge  and 
anchored  at  the  top  of  the  flood  an  hour  before  day- 
break. The  gig  was  lowered,  and  James  Walsham, 
amid  many  good  wishes  and  hearty  farewells  from  the 
officers,  took,  his  place  in  her  by  the  sid€  of  the  mid- 
shipman. 

"  Look  out  for  my  signal,"  he  said.  "  Any  time  after 
to-day  you  may  see  it." 

"  We  will  see  it  if  you  make  it,  my  boy,"  said  the  cap- 
tain, who  had  come  on  deck  to  see  him  off.    "Don't 


A  DANGEROUS  EXPEDITION. 


$0t 


you  fear  about  that.  If  you  make  your  signal  you  mav 
rely  upon  it  our  boat  will  be  ashore  for  you  that  night. ' 

Another  moment  and  the  boat  pulled  away  from  the 
side  of  the  ship. 

"  Take  it  easy,  lads,"  young  Middleton  said,  "  only 
just  dip  your  oars  in  the  water.  We  have  but  three 
miles  to  row  with  the  stream,  and  don't  want  to  be  there 
till  the  day  begins  to  show." 

The  oars  had  been  muffled,  and  noiselessly  the  boat 
dropped  down  the  stream  until  she  neared  Cap  Rouge, 
then  they  rowed  in  toward  the  French  shore. 

The  day  was  just  beginning  to  break  in  the  east  as 
they  neared  the  spot  where  the  French  camp  was  situ- 
ated. It  stood  high  up  on  the  plateau;  but  there  were 
a  small  number  of  tents  on  the  low  ground  by  the  river, 
as  some  batteries  had  been  erected  here.  They  were 
but  two  hundred  yards  from  the  shore  when  a  French 
sentry  challenged.  They  gave  no  answer,  and  the  sol- 
dier at  once  fired. 

"  Keep  about  this  distance  out,"  James  ordered. 
"  Row  quietly.  I  will  stand  up  as  if  I  were  watching 
the  shore." 

As  soon  as  the  shot  was  fired  it  was  answered  by 
shots  from  other  sentries.  A  minute  later  a  drum  was 
heard  to  beat  sharply,  and  then  in  the  faint  light  a  num- 
ber of  French  soldiers  could  be  seen  running  at  full 
speed  toward  the  shore.  The  shots  fell  thickly  round 
the  boat,  and  one  of  the  men  dropped  his  oar  as  a  bullet 
struck  him  on  the  shoulder. 

"  Pull  out  the  plugs,"  James  said. 

The  oakum  was  pulled  out  an^  thrown  overboard, 
and  the  water  rushed  in. 

*'  Now  turn  her  head  from  the  shore,  as  if  we  were 
crying  to  escape."  So  rapidly  did  the  water  rush  in 
through  the  four  holes  that  in  a  minute  the  gunwale  was 
nearly  level  with  the  water.  "Turn  her  over  now," 
James  said,  and  in  a  moment  the  boat  was  upset  and 
the  m?n  clinging  to  the  bottom.    A  shout  of  exultation 


m 


I  >» 


mm 


iP'^iinviTniiniipppfPiiP^ 


wmmw§. 


3o« 


WITH  WOLFE  IN  CAKADA; 


rose  from  the  shore  as  the  boat  was  seen  to  upsei,  and 
the  firing  at  once  ceased. 

"Swim  toward  the  shore  and  push  the  boat  before 
you/'  the  young  midshipman  said ;  "  they  won't  fire  any 
mpre  now,  and  we  have  finished  the  first  part  of  our 
business/' 

Pushing  the  boat  before  them,  the  men  made  their 
way  slowly  toward  the  shore,  striking  the  land  half  a 
mile  below  the  point  where  they  had  overturned.  The 
French  soldiers  had  followed  them  down  the  bank  and 
surrounded  them  as  they  landed.  The  holes  in  the 
boat  explained  for  themselves  the  cause  of  the  disaster. 
An  officer  stepped  forward. 

"  You  are  our  prisoners,"  he  said  to  James. 

The  latter  bowed.  "  It  is  the  fortune  of  war,"  he 
said;  "your  men  are  better  shots  than  I  gave  them 
credit  for,"  and  he  pointed  to  the  holes  in  the  boat.  He 
spoke  in  English,  but  the  officer  guiessed  his  meaning. 

Some  of  the  Indians  and  Canadians  soon  came  flock- 
ing down,  and  with  angry  gestures  demanded  that  the 
prisoners  should  be  shot;  but  the  French  officer  waved 
them  off,  and  placed  a  strong  guard  of  his  own  men 
around  them  to  prevent  their  being  touched  by  the  In- 
dians. The  young  midshipman  spoke  French  fluently, 
having  been  specially  sel^^cted  by  the  captain  for  that 
reason;  but  it  had  been  agreed  between  him  and  James 
that  he  should  not  betray  his  knowledge  of  the  lan- 
guage, as  he  might  thereby  pick  up  information  which 
might  be  useful.  They  were  Bt  once  conducted  before 
Bougainville. 

"  Do  you  speak  French?  "  he  asked. 

James  shook  his  head.  The  midshipman  looked  as  if 
he  had  not  understood  the  question. 

"  It  is  clear,"  the  French  officer  said  to  those  stand- 
ing around  him,  "  that  they  came  in  to  reconnoiter  the 
landing-place,  and  thought  in  the  dim  light  they  could 
run  the  gantlet  of  our  sentries'  fire.  It  was  more 
accurate  than  they  gave  them  credit  for." 

"  The  boat  ,was  struck  twice,  you  say? " 


A  DA^GftRbUS  £XPfeDiTtOii.  ^6^ 

"  Yes,  general,"  the  officer  who  conducted  them  into 
the  tent- replied;  "two  balls  right  through  her,  and  one 
of  the  men  was  hit  on  the  shoulder." 

**  The  reconnaissance  looks  as  if  Wolfe  meant  to  at- 
tempt landing  here,"  Bougainville  said.  "  We  must 
keep  a  sharp  lookout.  I  will  send  them  on  to  Quebec 
for  the  general  to  question  thexn.  He  will  find  some- 
one there  who  speaks  their  language.  I  will  send  at 
once  to  tell  him  we  have  captured  them.  But  I  can't 
very  well  do  so  till  we  have  a  convoy  going  with  regu- 
lars to  guard  it.  If  they  were  to  go  in  charge  of 
Canadians  the  chances  of  their  arriving  alive  in  Quebec 
would  be  slight.  Let  the  sailors  be  placed  in  a  tent  in 
your  lines,  Chateaudun,  and  place  a  sentry  over  them  to 
see  that  the  Indians  don't  get  at  them.  The  two  officers^ 
can  have  the  tent  that  Le  Bceuf  gave  up  y«*sterday;  you 
can  put  a  sentry  there,  but  they  can  go  in  and  out  as 
they  like.  There  is  no  fear  of  their  trying  to  escape; 
for  if  they  once  went  outside  the  lines  of  the  regulars  the 
Indians  and  Canadians  would  make  short  work  of  them." 

The  officer  led  James  and  the  midshipman  to  a  tent 
in  the  staff  lines,  whose  owner  had  ridden  to  Quebec  on 
the  previous  night  with  dispatches,  and  motioned  to 
them  that  it  was  to  be  theirs.  He  also  made  signs  to 
them  that  they  could  move  about  as  they  chose;  but 
significantly  warned  them  by  a  gesture  that  if  they  ven- 
tured beyond  the  tents  the  Indians  would  make  short 
work  of  them. 

For  a  time  the  prisoners  made  no  attempt  to  leave  the 
tent,  for  the  Indians  stood  scowling  at  a  short  distance 
off,  and  would  have  entered  had  not  the  sentry  on  duty 
prevented  them  from  doing  Sa. 

"  Do  not  talk  too  loudly,"  James  said.  "  It  is  prob- 
able that  in  a  camp  like  this  there  is  someone  who 
understands  English.  Very  likely  they  are  playing  the 
same  game  with  us  that  we  are  with  them.  They  pre- 
tend there  is  no  one  who  can  speak  to  us;  but  very 
likely  there  may  be  someone  standing  outside  now  try- 
ing to  listen  to  what  we  say."    Then  raising  his  voice 


i 


'"'MtKi.Jt  tTfJk^X^'-.lJf.'imiiim^'*^ 


'r-£«il6*Mt«<J»!!lCM>»  A«  <-"tt9>*:  .  u;.. 


^4 


WITH  Wolfe  in  caNaj^a. 


he  went  on,  "What  abominable  luck  I  have!  Who 
could  have  reckoned  upon  the  boat  being  hit  twice  at 
that  distance?  I  thought  we  had  fairly  succeeded. 
The  general  will  be  in  l  nice  »vay  wheti  he  finds  we 
don't  come  back." 

"  Yes,"  Middleton  rejoined,  "  and  to  think  that  we  arc 
likely  to  spend  the  winter  in  prison  at  Quebec  instead  of 
Old  England.     I  am  half  inclined  to  try  and  escape!" 

"Nonsense!"  James  replied;  "it  would  be  madness 
to  think  of  such  a  thing.  These  Indians  can  see  in  the 
dark,  and  the  moment  you  put  your  foot  outside  the 
lines  of  these  French  regulars  you  would  le  carried  off 
and  scalped.  No,  no,  my  boy;  that  would  be  simply 
throwing  away  our  lives.  There  is  nothing  for  it  but  to 
wait  quietly  till  either  Wolfe  takes  Quebec  or  you  are 
exchanged." 

The  prisoners  were  treated  with  courtesy  by  the 
French  officers,  and  comfortable  meals  were  provided. 
In  the  evening  they  went  outside  the  tent  for  a  short 
time,  but  did  not  venture  to  go  far,  for  Indians  were 
still  moving  about,  and  the  hostile  glances  which  they 
threw  at  the  prisoners  were  sufficient  to  indicate  what 
would  happen  to  the  latter  if  they  were  caught  beyond 
the  protection  of  the  sentry. 

"  Bougainville  was  nght  in  supposing  that  prisoners 
would  not  be  likely  to  attempt  to  escape,"  James  said  in 
a  low  voice.  "The  look  of  those  Indians  would  be 
quite  sufficient  to  prevent  anyone  from  attempting  it 
under  ordinary  circumstances.  It  is  well  that  my  busi- 
ness will  take  me  down  the  river  toward  Quebec,  while 
they  will  make  sure  that  I  shall  have  made  up  the  river 
with  a  view  of  making  my  way  off  to  the  ships  the  next 
time  they  go  up  above  Cap  Rouge." 

"  It  will  be  risky  work  getting  through  them,"  the 
midshipman  remarked;  "but  all  the  same  I  wish  I  was 
going  with  you  instead  of  having  to  stick  here  in 
prison." 

"  It  would  be  running  too  great  a  risk  of  spoiling  my 
chance  of  success,"  James  said.    "  I  am  accustomed  to 


mm 


■r.*"' 


A  DANGSR0V8  ZXPIDITIOM. 


305 


tfie  redskins,  and  can  crawl  through  them  as  noiselessly 
as  they  could  themselves.  Besides,  one  can  hide  where 
two  could  not.  I  on^'y  hope  that  when  they  find  I  have 
gone  they  won't  talr^  it  into  their  heads  to  revenge  my 
escape  upon  you." 

"  There  is  no  fear  of  that/'  the  midshipman  said.  "  I 
shall  be  sound  asleep  in  the  tent,  and  when  they  wake 
me  up  and  find  you  are  gone  I  shall  make  a  tremendous 
fuss,  and  pretend  to  be  most  indignant  that  you  have 
deserted  me."  ) 

The  two  prisoners  had  eaten  but  little  of  the  meals 
served  to  them  that  day,  putting  the  greater  portion 
aside  and  hiding  it  in  the  straw  which  served  for  their 
beds,  in  order  that  James  might  take  with  him  a  supply, 
for  it  might  be  three  or  four  days  before  he  could  be 
taken  off  by  the  ships'  boats. 

"  I  suppose  you  won't  go  very  far  to-night? "  the 
midshipman  said  suddenly. 

"  No,"  James  replied;  "  I  shall  hide  somewhere  along 
the  face  of  the  cliff,  a  mile  or  so  away.  They  are  not 
likely  to  look  for  me  down  the  river  at  all;  but  if  they 
do  they  will  think  I  have  gone  as  far  as  I  can  away,  and 
the  nearer  I  am  to  this  place  the  safer." 

"  Look  here,"  the  midshipman  said.  "  I  am  going 
strictly  to  obey  orders;  but  at  the  same  time  it  is  just 
possible  that  something  may  turn  up  that  you  ought  to 
know,  or  that  might  make  me  want  to  bolt.  Suppose, 
for  instance,  I  heard  them  say  that  they  meant  to  shoot 
us  both  in  the  morning — it's  not  likely,  you  know;  still 
it's  always  as  well  to  be  prepared  for  whatever  might 
happen — if  so,  I  should  crawl  out  of  camp  and  make  my 
way  along  after  you.  And  if  so,  I  shall  walk  along  the 
edge  and  sometimes  give  two  little  whistles  like  this; 
and  if  you  hear  me,  you  answer  me." 

"  Don't  be  foolish,  Middleton,"  James  said  seriously. 
"  You  would  only  risk  your  life  and  mine  by  any  non- 
sense of  that  sort.  There  can't  be  any  possible  reason 
why  you  should  want  to  go  away.  You  have  under- 
taken to  carry  this  out;,  knowing  that  you  would  have 


I ,  i  Till"  ,li'  I'll*!. ft'i'lil  >•> 


MU«ar4MMKM«V'*IMi»v,.jr4 


$06 


WITH  WOLFE  IN  CANADA. 


perhaps  to  remain  a  prisoner  for  some  time;  and  hav« 
ing  undertaken  it,  you  must  keep  to  the  plans  laid 
down." 

"But  I  am  going  to,  Captain  Walsham.  Still,  you 
know,  something  might  turn  up." 

"  I  don't  see  that  anything  possibly  could  turn  up," 
James  insisted ;  "  but  if  at  any  future  time  you  do  think 
of  any  mad-brained  attempt  of  escaping,  you  must  take 
off  your  shoes,  and  you  must  put  your  foot  down  each 
time  as  gently  as  if  the  ground  were  covered  with  nails; 
for  if  you  were  to  tread  upon  a  twig,  and  there  were  an 
Indian  within  half  a  mile  of  you,  he  would  hear  it  crack. 
But  don't  you  attempt  any  such  folly.  No  good  could 
possibly  come  of  it,  and  you  would  be  sure  to  fall  into 
the  hands  of  the  savages  or  Canadians;  and  you  know 
how  they  treat  prisoners." 

"I  know,"  the  boy  said;  "and  I  have  no  wish  to 
have  my  scalp  hanging  up  in  any  of  their  wigwams." 

It  was  midnight  before  the  camp  was  perfectly  still, 
and  then  James  Walsham  quietly  loosened  one  of  the 
pegs  of  the  canvas  at  the  back  of  the  tent,  and  with  a 
warm  grasp  of  the  midshipman's  hand  crawled  out. 
The  lad  listened  attentively,  but  he  could  not  hear  the 
slightest  sound.  The  sentinel  was  striding  up  and 
down  in  front  of  the  tent,  humming  the  air  of  a  French 
song  as  he  walked.  Half  an  hour  passed  without  the 
slightest  stir,  and  the  midshipman  was  sure  that  James 
was  by  this  time  safely  beyond  the  enemy's  camp. 

He  was  just  about  to  compose  himself  to  sleep  when 
he  heard  a  tramping  of  feet.  The  sentry  challenged, 
the  password  was  given,  and  the  party  passed  on  toward 
the  general's  tent.  It  was  some  thirty  yards  distant, 
and  the  sentry  posited  there  challenged.  "  I  wonder 
what's  up?"  the  midshipman  said  to  himself;  and  lift- 
ing the  canvas  he  put  his  head  out  where  James  had 
crawled  through.  The  men  had  halted  before  the  gen- 
eral's tent,  and  the  boy  hr;ard  the  general's  voice  from 
inside  the  tent  ask  sharply,  "  What  is  it?  " 
"J  regret  tp  disturb  ;rou,  M.  H  G^n^ral;  but  we 


m  ■mfn.'  —^*»J 


ifimt 


"fWWP^t'"^ 


■•l* 


•K-**^ 


A  DANGEROUS  EXPEDITION. 


307 


-d 
It, 


have  here  one  of  the  Canadian  pilots  who  has  swum 
ashore  from  the  enemy's  fleet  higher  up  the  river,  and 
who  has  important  news  for  you." 

The  midshipman  at  once  determined  to  hear  what  . 
passed.  He  had  already  taken  off  his  shoes;  and  he 
now  crawled  out  from  the  tent,  and  moving  with  ex- 
treme caution  made  his  way  round  to  the  back  of  the 
general's  tent,  just  as  the  latter,  having  thrown  on  his 
coat  and  lighted  a  candle,  unfastened  the  entrance. 
The  midshipman,  determined  to  see  as  well  as  hear  what 
was  going  on,  lifted  up  the  flap  a  few  inches  behind, 
and  as  he  lay  on  the  ground  peered  in.  A  French 
officer  had  just  entered,  and  he  was  followed  by  a 
Canadian,  whom  the  midshipman  recognized  at  once  as 
being  the  one  who  piloted  the  Sutherland  up  and  down 
the  river. 

"  Where  do  you  come  from?  "  Bougainville  asked. 

"  I  swam  ashore  two  hours  ago  from  the  English  ship 
Sutherland"  the  Canadian  said. 

"  How  did  you  manage  to  escape?  " 

"  I  would  have  swum  ashore  long  ago,  but  at  night  I 
have  always  been  locked  up,  ever  since  I  was  captured, 
in  a  cabin  below.  To-night  the  door  opened  quietly, 
and  someone  came  in  and  said: 

"  *  Hush!— can  you  swim?  * 

"  *  Like  a  fish,'  I  said. 

"  *  Are  you  ready  to  try  and  escape  if  I  give  you  the 
chance? ' 

"  *  I  should  think  so,'  I  replied. 

"'Then  follow  me,  but  don't  make  the  slightest 
noise.' 

"  I  followed  him.  We  passed  along  the  main  deck, 
where  the  sailors  were  all  asleep  in  their  hammocks.  A 
lantern  was  burning  here,  and  I  saw  by  its  light  that  my 
conductor  was  an  officer.  He  led  me  along  till  we 
entered  a  cabin — his  own,  I  suppose.  *  Look,'  he  whis- 
pered, '  there  is  a  rope  from  th"  port-hole  down  to  the 
water.  If  you  slide  quietly  do\yh  by  it  and  then  let 
yours^H  drift  till  70U  ^9  welj  ^st^ri:i  of  |:hp  ship  thp 


m 
.■'*??i 


3o8 


WITH   WOLFE   IN  CANADA. 


' 
M 


sentry  on  the  quarterdeck  will  not  see  you.  Here  is  a 
letter;  put  it  in  your  cap.  If  yju  are  fired  at  and  a 
boat  is  lowered  to  catch  you,  throw  the  paper  away  at 
once.  Will  you  swear  to  do  that?'  I  said  I  would 
swear  by  the  Virgin.  *  Very  well/  he  went  on ;  *  if  you 
get  away  safely  and  swim  to  shore,  make  your  way  with- 
out a  minute's  delay  to  the  French  camp  at  Cap  Rouge 
and  give  this  letter  to  the  general.  It  is  a  matter  of  the 
most  extreme  importance.'    This  is  the  letter,  general." 

He  handed  a  small  piece  of  paper,  tightly  folded  up, 
to  Bougainville,  who  opened  it  and  read  it  by  the  light 
of  the  candle. 

He  gave  a  sharp  exclamation. 

"Quick!"  he  exclaimed;  "come  along  to  the  tent 
of  the  prisoners.  I  am  warned  that  the  capture  was  a 
ruse,  and  that  the  military  officer  is  a  spy,  whose  object 
here  is  to  discover  a  landing-place.  He  is  to  escape  the 
first  opportunity." 

The  three  men  at  once  ran  out  from  the  tent.  The 
instant  they  did  so  the  midshipman  crawled  in  under 
the  flap,  rushed  to  the  table  on  which  the  general  had 
thrown  the  piece  of  paper,  seized  it,  and  then  darted  out 
again  and  stole  quietly  away  in  the  darkness.  He  had 
not  gone  twenty  yards  when  a  volley  of  angry  exclama- 
tions told  him  that  the  French  general  had  discovered 
that  the  tent  was  empty. 

The  night  was  a  dark  one,  and  to  prevent  himself 
from  falling  over  tent-ropes  the  midshipman  threw  him- 
self down  and  crawled  along  c*  his  hands  and  knees, 
but  he  paused  before  he  had  gone  many  yards  and  lis- 
,tened  intently.    The  general  was  returning  to  his  tent. 

"  It  is  no  use  doing  anything  to-night,"  he  said. 
"  Even  an  Indian  could  not  follow  the  track  of  a  wagon. 
At  daybreak.  Major  D'Orsay,  let  the  redskins  know  that 
the  prisoners  have  escaped,  and  offer  a  reward  of  fifty 
crowns  for  their  recapture,  dead  or  alive — I  care  not 
which.  Let  this  good  fellow  turn  in  at  the  guard  tent. 
I  will  talk  to  him  in  the  morning.    Godd-night! " 

The  midshipman  kept  his  eyes  anxiously  on  the  dim 


■yww 


tttfi  l»AtII  D6W1I   tMfi  HEIGHTS. 


3*0 


light  that  could  be  faintly  seen  through  the  tent.  If  the 
general  missed  the  paper  he  might  guess  that  it  had 
been  taken  by  the  fugitives,  and  might  order  an  instant 
search  of  the  camp.  He  gave  a  sigh  of  relief  when  he 
saw  the  light  disappear  the  moment  the  French  officer 
had  entered  the  tent,  and  then  crawled  away  through 
the  camp. 


CHAPTER   XX. 


t. 


THE  PATH  DOWN  THE  HEIGHTS. 

As  the  midshipman  crawled  away  from  the  tent  of  the 
French  general  he  adopted  the  precautions  which  James 
had  suggested,  and  felt  the  ground  carefully  for  twigs  or 
sticks  each  time  he  moved.  The  still  glowing  embers 
of  the  camp-fires  warned  him  where  the  Indians  and 
Canadians  were  sleeping,  and  carefully  avoiding  these 
he  made  his  way  up  beyond  the  limits  of  the  camp. 
There  were  no  sentries  posted  here,  for  ^ne  French  were 
perfectly  safe  from  attack  from  that  quarter,  and  once 
fairly  beyond  the  camp  the  midshipman  rose  to  his  feet 
and  made  his  way  to  the  edge  of  the  slopes  above  the 
St.  Lawrence.  He  walked  for  about  a  mile,  and  then 
paused  on  the  very  edge  of  the  sharp  declivity  and 
whistled  as  agreed  upon. 

A  hundred  yards  further  he  repeated  the  signal.  The 
fourth  time  he  whistled  he  heard  just  below  him  the 
answer,  and  a  minute  later  James  Walsham  stood  be- 
side him. 

"  You  young  scamp,  what  are  you  doing  here?  " 

"  It  was  not  my  fault,  Captain  Walsham,  it  wasn't 
indeed ;  but  I  should  have  been  tomahawked  if  I  had 
stayed  there  a  moment  longer." 

"  What  do  you  mean  by  you  would  have  been  toma- 
hawked?" James  asked  angrily,  for  he  was  convinced 
that  the  midshipman  had  m?.de  up  his  mind  all  along  to 
accompany  liim. 


.11 


:  M 


, 


liWHiiW 


V^ 


WITH  WOLPE  IK  CANADA. 


"The  pilot  of  the  Sutherland  swam  ashore  with  the 
news  that  you  had  been  taken  prisoner  on  purpose,  and 
were  really  a  spy." 

"  But  how  on  earth  did  he  know  that?  "  James  asked. 
"  I  took  care  the  man  was  not  on  deck  when  we  made 
the  holes  in  the  boat,  and  he  does  not  understand  a 
word  of  English,  so  he  could  not  have  overheard  what 
the  men  said." 

"  I  am  sorry  to  say,  sir,  that  it  is  a  case  of  treachery, 
and  that  one  of  our  officers  is  concerned  in  it.  The  man 
said  that  an  officer  released  him  from  his  cell,  and  took 
him  to  his  cabin,  and  then  lowered  him  by  a  rope 
through  the  port-hole." 

"Impossible!"  James  Walsham  said. 

"  It  sounds  impossible,  sir;  but  I  am  afraid  it  isn't, 
for  the  officer  gave  him  a  note  to  bring  to  the  general, 
telling  him  all  about  it,  and  that  note  I  have  got  in  my 
pocket  now." 

The  midshipman  then  related  the  whole  circum- 
stances of  his  discovery. 

"  It  is  an  extraordinary  affair,"  James  said.  "  How- 
ever, you  are  certainly  not  to  blame  for  making  your 
escape  when  you  did.  You  could  not  have  got  back 
into  your  tent  till  too  late;  and  even  could  you  have 
done  so  it  might  have  gone  hard  with  you,  for  of  course 
they  would  have  known  that  you  were  what  they  would 
call  an  accomplice  in  the  affair." 

"  I  will  go  on  if  you  like,  sir,"  the  boy  said,  "  and 
hide  somewhere  else,  so  that  if  they  track  me  they  will 
not  find  you." 

"  No,  no,"  James  said,  "  I  don't  think  there's  any  fear 
of  our  being  tracked.  Indian  eyes  are  sharp;  but  they 
can't  perform  miracles.  In  the  forest  it  would  be  hope- 
less to  escape  them,  but  here  the  grass  is  short  and  the 
ground  dry,  and  without  boots  we  cannot  have  left  any 
tracks  that  would  be  followed,  especially  as  bodies  of 
French  troops  have  been  marching  backward  and  for- 
ward along  the  edge  of  these  heights  for  the  last  fort- 
night,   I  won't  say  that  it  is  impossible  that  they  can 


■Ma 


TRB  PATH  DOWN   THE  HEIGHTS. 


311 


find  us,  but  it  will  not  be  by  our  tracks.  Now,  come 
c^own  to  this  bush  where  I  was  lying,  we  will  wait  there 
til?  daylight  breaks;  it  is  as  far  down  as  I  dare  go  by 
this  light,  but  when  we  can  see  we  will  find  a  safer  place 
further  down." 

Cautiously  they  made  their  way  down  to  a  clump  of 
bushes  twenty  feet  below  the  edge,  and  there,  lying 
down,  dozed  until  it  became  light  enough  to  see  the 
ground.  The  slope  was  very  steep,  but  bushea  grew 
here  and  there  upon  it,  and  by  means  of  these  and  pro- 
jecting rocks  they  worked  their  way  down  some  thirty 
feet  lower,  and  then  sat  down  among  some  bushes  which 
screened  them  from  the  sight  of  anyone  who  might  be 
passing  along  the  edee  of  the  river,  while  the  steep 
slope  effectually  hid  them  from  anyone  moving  along 
above. 

.  "  Is  there  any  signature  to  that  letter?  "  James  asked 
presently. 

"  No,  there  is  no  signature,"  Middleton  said;  "but  I 
know  the  handwriting.  I  have  seen  it  in  orders  over  and 
over  again." 

James  was  silent  a  few  minutes. 

"  I  won't  ask  you  who  it  is,  though  I  fear  I  know  too 
well.  Look  here,  Middleton,  I  should  like  you  to  tear 
that  letter  up  and  say  no  more  about  it." 

"  No,  sir,"  the  boy  said,  putting  the  paper  in  his 
pocket,  "  I  can't  do  that.  Of  course  I  am  under  your 
orders  for  this  expedition;  but  this  is  not  an  affair  in 
which  I  consider  that  I  am  bound  to  obey  you.  This 
concerns  the  honor  of  the  officers  of  my  ship,  and  I 
should  not  be  doing  my  duty  if  I  did  not,  upon  my  re- 
turn, place  this  letter  in  the  hands  of  the  captain.  A 
man  who  would  betray  the  general's  plans  to  the  enemy 
would  betray  the  ship,  and  I  should  be  a  traitor  myself 
if  I  did  not  inform  the  captain.  I  am  sorry,  awfully 
sorry,  that  this  should  happen  to  an  officer  of  the  Suther^ 
land;  but  it  will  be  for  the  captain  to  decide  whether  he 
will  make  it  public  or  uot.  There  is  one  thing,  if  it  was 
to  be  anyone  I  would  rather  that  it  was  he  than  anyone 


i^'w- 


■•^.A. 


mm 


313 


WITH  WOLFE  IN  CANADA. 


else,  for  there  isn't  a  man  on  board  can  abide  him.  No, 
sir,  I  am  sorry,  but  I  cannot  give  up  the  letter,  and  even 
if  you  had  torn  it  up  when  you  had  it  in  your  hand  just 
now  I  should  have  reported  the  whole  thing  to  the  cap- 
tain, and  say  I  could  swear  to  the  handwriting." 

James  was  silent.  The  boy  was  right,  and  was  only 
doing  his  duty  in  determining  to  denounce  the  act  of 
gross  treachery  which  had  been  perpetrated.  He  was 
deeply  grieved,  however,  to  think  of  the  consequences 
of  the  discovery,  and  especially  of  the  blow  that  it  would 
be  to  the  squire  to  hear  that  his  nephew  was  a  traitor, 
and  indeed  a  murderer  at  heart,  for  had  not  his  flight 
taken  place  before  the  discovery  was  made  he  would 
certainly  have  been  executed  as  a  spy. 

The  day  passed  quietly.  That  the  Indians  were 
searching  for  him  far  and  wide  James  Walsham  had  no 
doubt,  and  indeed  from  their  hiding-place  he  saw  sev- 
eral parties  of  redskins  moving  along  on  the  river  bank 
carefully  examining  the  ground. 

"It's  lucky  we  didn't  move  along  there,"  he  said  to 
his  companion,  "for  the  ground  is  so  soft  that  they 
would  assuredly  have  found  our  tracks.  I  expect  that 
they  think  it  possible  that  we  may  have  been  taken  off 
in  a  boat  during  the  night." 

"  I  hope  they  will  keep  on  thinking  so,"  the  midship- 
man said,  "  then  they  will  give  up  looking  for  us." 

"  They  won't  do  that,"  James  replied ;  '*  for  they  will 
be  sure  that  they  must  have  seen  our  tracks  had  we 
passed  along  that  muddy  bank.  Fortunately  they  have 
no  clew  to  where  we  really  are.  We  might  have  gone 
east,  west,  or  north,  and  the  country  is  so  covered  with 
bush  that  anything  like  a  regular  search  is  absolutely 
impossible." 

"  I  hope  we  aint  going  to  be  very  long  before  we  get 
on  board  again,"  the  midshipman  said,  as  he  munched 
the  small  piece  of  bread  James  served  out  to  him  for  his 
dinner.  "The  grub  won't  last  more  than  two  days, 
even  at  this  starvation  rate,  and  that  one  bottle  of  water 
is  a  mockery;  I  could  finish  it  all  straight  off.    Why,  we 


THE  PATH  DOWN  THE  HEIGHTS. 


3»3 


shall  be  as  badly  off  as  if  we  were  adrift  at  sea  in  a 
boat." 

"  Not  quite  so  bad,"  James  replied ;  "  we  can  chew 
the  leaves  of  some  of  these  bushes;  besides,  people  don't 
die  of  hunger  or  thirst  in  four  days,  and  I  hope  before 
that  to  be  safely  on  board." 

Not  until  it  was  perfectly  dark  did  they  leave  their 
hiding-place,  and  by  the  aid  of  the  bushes  worked  their 
way  up  the  ascent  again.  James  had  impressed  on  his 
companion  that  01:0  account  was  he  to  speak  above  a 
whisper,  that  he  was  to  stop  whenever  he  did,  and 
should  he  turn  off  and  descend  the  slope,  he  was  at  once 
to  follow  his  example.  The  midshipman  kept  close  to 
his  companion,  and  marveled  how  assuredly  the  latter 
walked  along,  for  he  himself  could  see  nothing. 

Several  times  James  stopped  and  listened.  Presently 
he  turned  oflF  to  the  right,  saying  "  hush!  "  in  the  lowest 
possible  tone,  and  proceeding  a  few  paces  down  the 
slope,  noiselessly  lay  down  behind  the  bush.  The  mid- 
shipman imitated  his  example,  though  he  wondered  why 
he  was  so  acting,  for  he  could  hear  nothing.  Two  or 
three  minutes  later  he  heard  a  low  footfall,  and  then  the 
sound  of  men  speaking  in  a  low  voice  m  some  strange 
tongue.  He  could  not  see  them,  but  held  his  breath  as 
they  were  passing.  Not  till  they  had  been  gone  some 
minutes  did  James  rise  and  pursue  his  course. 

"Two  Indians,"  he  said,  "and  on  the  search  for  us. 
One  was  just  saying  to  the  other  he  expected  when  they 
got  back  to  camp  to  find  that  some  of  the  other  parties 
had  overtaken  us." 

Another  mile  further  and  they  saw  the  light  of  sev- 
eral fires  ahead. 

"That  is  a  French  battery,"  James  said;  "we  must 
make  a  detour  and  get  to  the  other  side  of  it,  then  I  will 
crawl  back  and  see  if  there  is  any  path  down  to  the 
river." 

The  detour  was  made,  and  then  leaving  the  midship- 
man in  hiding  a  few  paces  from  the  edge  Jr^mes  crawled 
back.    He  soon  saw  by  the  fires  that  the  battery  was 


i 


■ 


314 


WITH  WOLFE  m  CAMADl. 


manned  by  sailors  from  the  French  fleet,  and  he  had 
little  fear  of  these  discovering"  him.  Keeping  well  be- 
low them  he  came  presently  upon  a  narrow  path. 
Above  him  he  could  hear  a  French  sentry  walking.  He 
followed  the  path  down  with  the  greatest  caution,  step- 
ping with  the  most  extreme  care  to  avoid  displacing  a 
stone.  He  found  the  path  was  excessively  steep  and 
rugged,  little  more  indeed  than  a  sheep  track.  It  took 
him  half  an  hour  to  reach  the  bottom,  and  he  found  that 
in  some  places  sappers  had  been  lately  at  work  obliterat- 
ing the  path,  and  that  it  could  scarcely  be  considered 
practicable  for  men  hampered  with  their  arms  and 
ammunition.  Another  half  hour's  work  took  him  to 
the  top  again,  and  a  few  minutes  later  he  rejoined  h!s 
companion. 

"That  won't  do,"  he  said;  "we  must  try  again. 
There  is  a  path,  but  the  troops  could  scarcely  climb  it 
if  unopposed,  and  certainly  could  not  do  so  without 
making  such  a  noise  as  would  attract  the  notice  of  the 
sentinels  above." 

"That  is  the  battery  they  call  Sillery,"  the  midship- 
man said;  "they  have  fired  at  us  over  and  over  again 
from  there  as  we  went  up  or  down  the  river.  There 
is  another  about  a  mile  further  on;  it  is  called 
Samos." 

Upon  reaching  the  Samos  battery  James  again  crept 
up  and  reconnoitered.  The  way  down,  however,  was 
even  more  difficult  than  at  Sillery.  There  was  indeed 
no  regular  path,  and  so  steep  was  the  descent  that  he 
doubted  whether  it  would  be  possible  for  armed  men  to 
climb  it.  Even  he,  exceptionally  strong  and  active  as 
he  was  and  unencumbered  with  arms,  had  the  greatest 
difficulty  in  making  his  way  down  and  up  again,  and 
indeed  could  only  do  so  by  grasping  the  trunks  of  trees 
and  strong  bushes. 

"  It  can't  be  dor**  there,"  he  said  to  the  midshipman 
when  he  joined  him  again.  "And  now  we  must  look 
for  a  hiding-place;  we  must  have  been  five  or  six  hours 
since  we  started,  and  the  nights  are  very  short.    At 


v"m 


wmmmmm 


ipHMROTMII 


t'^ 


THE  PATH  DOWN   THE  HEIGHTS. 


3t3 


any  rate  we  cannot  attempt  another  exploration  before 
morning." 

"  I  wish  we  could  explore  the  inside  of  a  farmhouse 
and  light  upon  something  to  eat  and  drink,"  the  mid- 
shipman sstid. 

"  It's  no  use  wishing,"  James  replied;  "we  can't  risk 
anything  of  that  sort,  and  probably  all  the  farmhouses 
are  full  of  troops.  We  have  got  a  little  bread  left,  that 
will  hold  us  over  to-moriow  comfortably." 

"It  may  hold  us,"  Middleton  said;  "but  it  certainly 
won't  hold  me  comfortably.  My  idea  of  comfort  at  the 
present  time  would  be  a  round  of  beef  and  a  gallon 
of  ale." 

"Ah!  you  are  an  epicure,"  James  laughed.  "  If  you 
had  had  three  or  four  years  of  campaigning  in  the  forest, 
as  I  have  had,  you  would  learn  to  content  yourself  on 
something  a  good  deal  less  than  that." 

"I  might,"  the  boy  said;  "but  I  have  my  doubts 
about  it.  There's  one  comfort,  we  shall  be  able  to  sleep 
all  day  to-morrow,  and  so  I  shan't  think  about  it.  As 
the  Indians  did  not  find  our  tracks  yesterday  they  are 
not  likely  to  do  so  to-day." 

They  were  some  time  before  they  found  a  hiding- 
place,  for  the  descent  was  so  steep  that  they  had  to  try 
several  times  before  they  could  get  down  far  enough  to 
reach  a  spot  screened  by  bushes  and  hidden  from  the 
sight  of  anyone  passing  above.  At  last  they  did  so,  and 
soon  lay  down  to  sleep,  after  partaking  of  a  mouthful  of 
water  each  and  a  tiny  piece  of  bread.  They  passed  the 
day  for  the  most  part  in  sleep,  but  the  midshipman 
woke  frequently,  being  now  really  parched  with  thirst. 
Each  time  he  chewed  a  few  leaves  from  the  bush  in 
which  they  were  lying,  but  derived  but  small  comfort 
from  it. 

"  It's  awful  to  think  of  to-morrow,"  he  said  as  evening 
approached.  "  Even  supposing  you  find  a  way  aown 
to-night  it  must  be  midnight  to-morrow  before  we  arc 
taken  oflf." 

"  If  I  find  a  way  down/'  James  said,  "  I  will,  if  p08- 


•TJ 


_\  A 


$t6 


WITH  WOLFE  IN  CANADA. 


sible,  take  you  down  with  me,  and  then  we  can  take  a 
long  drink  at  the  river;  but  at  any  rate  I  will  take  the 
bottle  down  with  me  and  bring  it  up  full  for  you.  The 
next  place  to  try  is  the  spot  where  we  saw  some  tents 
as  we  went  up  the  river.  There  is  no  battery  there,  and 
the  tents  can  only  have  been  pitched  there  because  there 
was  some  way  down  to  the  water.  It  cannot  be  more 
than  half  a  mile  away,  for  it  was  not  more  than  a  mile 
from  Fort  Samos." 

"  Can't  I  go  with  you? "  the  midshipman  said,  "  I 
will  be  as  quiet  as  a  cat;  and  if  you  find  it  is  a  good  path 
and  come  up  to  fetch  me  down,  you  see  there  will  be  a 
treble  risk  of  being  seen." 

"  Very  well,"  James  agreed ;  "  only  mind  if  you  set  a 
stone  rolling  or  break  a  twig  it  will  cost  us  both  our 
lives,  to  say  nothing  of  the  failure  of  our  expedition." 

"  I  will  be  as  quiet  as  a  mouse,  you  see  if  I  aint,"  the 
midshipman  said  confidently;  "and  I  will  try  not 'to 
think  even  once  of  the  water  below  there,  so  as  not  to 
hurry." 

Together  they  crept  cautiously  along  the  edge  of  the 
ridge  until  they  came  to  a  clump  of  some  fifteen  tents. 
As  they  approached  they  could  see  by  the  light  of  the 
fires  that  the  encampment  was  one  of  Canadian  troops. 
James  had  not  intended  to  move  forward  until  all  were 
asleep,  but  the  men  were  all  chatting  round  the  fires, 
and  it  did  not  seem  to  him  that  a  sentry  had  as  yet  been 
placed  on  the  cd^^e  of  the  descent.  He  therefore  crept 
forward  at  once,  followed  closely  by  the  midshipman, 
keeping  as  far  as  possible  down  beyond  the  slope  of  the 
descent. 

Presently  he  came  to  a  path;  he  saw  at  once 
that  this  was  very  different  from  the  others — it  was 
regularly  cut,  sloping  gradually  down  the  face  of  the 
sharp  descent,  and  was  wide  enough  for  a  cart  to  pass. 
He  at  once  took  his  way  down  it,  moving  with  the 
greatest  caution,  lest  a  sentry  should  be  posted  some 
distance  below.  It  was  very  dark,  for  in  many  places 
the  trees  met  overhead.    About  halfway  down  he  sud- 


tHB  PATH  DOWN  THE  HEIGHTS. 


3*7 


denly  came  to  a  stop,  for  in  front  of  him  rose  a  bank 
breast-high. 

Here,  if  anywhere,  a  sentry  should  have  been  placed, 
and  holding  his  .companion's  arm  James  listened  in- 
tently for  some  time. 

"Mind  what  you  are  doing,"  he  said  in  a  whisper; 
"  that  is  a  breastwork,  and  probably  the  path  is  cut  away 
on  the  other  side.  Fortunately  we  are  so  far  down  the 
hill  now  that  there  is  not  much  risk  of  their  hearing  any 
slight  noise  we  might  make.  You  stand  here  till  I  find 
out  what's  on  the  other  side." 

James  climbed  over  the  breastwork  and  cautiously 
let  himself  go  on  the  other  side ;  he  fell  some  five  or  six 
feet. 

"  Come  on,"  he  said  in  a  low  voice;  "  lower  yourself 
down  by  your  arms,  I  can  reach  your  legs  then." 

The  gap  cut  in  the  path  was  some  ten  feet  across  and 
six  feet  deep.  When  with  some  difficulty  they  clam- 
bered up  on  the  other  side  they  found  the  path 
obstructed  by  a  number  of  felled  trees,  forming  a  thick 
abattis.  They  managed  to  climb  the  steep  hillside  and 
keep  along  it  until  past  the  obstruction,  then  they  got 
on  to  the  path  again  and  found  it  unbroken  to  the 
bottom. 

"  So  far,  so  good,"  James  said.  "  Now  do  you  stop 
here  while  I  crawl  forward  to  the  water.  The  first  thing 
to  discover  is  whether  they  have  a  sentinel  stationed 
anywhere  near  the  bottom  of  this  path." 

The  time  seemed  terribly  long  to  Middleton  be- 
fore James  returned,  though  it  was  really  but  a  few 
minutes. 

"All  right!"  he  said  as  he  approached  him;  "there 
is  no  one  here,  though  I  can  hear  some  sentries  farther 
up  the  river.  Now  you  can  come  forward  and  have  a 
drink,  fortunately  the  river  is  high." 

After  having  satisfied  their  thirst  Middleton  asked: 
"  Where  are  you  going  now?  I  don't  care  how  far  we 
have  got  to  march,  for  after*  that  drink  I  feel  ready  for 
anything." 


»■ 


-T^f 


I'nja'i'.p.' 


"WPI?^ 


,  ■  I 


318 


WITH  WdLF£  IN  CANADA. 


"  It  won't  do  to  hide  anywhere  near,"  James  said; 
"  for  if  the  boat  which  comes  to  take  us  oflf  were  to  be 
seen  it  would  put  them  on  their  guar^,  and  there  would 
be  plenty  of  sentries  about  here  in  future.  No,  we  will 
keep  along  at  the  foot  of  the  precipice  till  we  are  about 
halfway,  ls  far  as  we  can  tell,  between  Samos  and 
Sillery,  and  then  we  will  climb  up  as  high  as  we  can  get 
and  show  our  signal  in  the  morning;  but  you  must  be 
careful  as  we  walk,  for  as  I  told  you  there  are  some  sen- 
tries posted  by  the  water's  edge  higher  up." 

"  I  will  be  careful,  don't  you  fear,"  the  midshipman 
said.  "  There  is  not  much  fear  of  a  fellow  walking 
about  in  the  dark  without  boots  not  being  careful.  I 
knocked  my  toe  against  a  rock  just  now  and  it  was  as 
much  as  I  could  do  not  to  halloa.  I  will  be  careful  in 
future,  I  can  tell  you." 

An  hour's  walking  brought  them  to  a  spot  where  the 
hill  was  rather  less  steep  than  usual;  they  climbed  up 
until  they  gained  a  spot  some  fifty  feet  above  the  level 
of  the  river,  and  there  sat  down  in  a  clump  of  bushes. 

"  As  soon  as  it's  daylight  we  will  choose  a  spot  where 
we  can  show  a  signal  without  the  risk  of  its  being  seen 
from  below,"  James  said.  "  We  mustn't  go  to  sleep,  tor 
we  must  move  directly  the  dawn  commences,  else  those 
sentries  below  might  make  us  out." 

At  daybreak  they  shifted  their  position  and  gained  a 
spot  completely  hidden  from  below,  but  from  which  an 
entire  view  of  the  river  could  be  obtained. 

"  Tide  will  be  low  in  a  couple  of  hours,"  the  midship- 
man said;  "there  are  the  fleet  belov/,  they  will  come 
up  with  the  first  flood,  so  in  three  or  four  hours  they 
will  be  abreast  of  us.  I  hope  they  will  make  out  our 
signal." 

"I  have  no  fear  of  that,"  James  replied;  "they  are 
■sure  to  keep  a  sharp  lookout  for  it." 

Presently  the  tide  grew  slacker,  and  half  an  hour 
later  the  ships  were  seen  to  hoist  their  sails  and  soon  be- 
gan to  drop  slowly  up  the  river.  When  they  ap- 
proached James  fastened  his  handkerchief  against  the 


RiPiPnpfi 


THE  PATH  D6WN  tHE  HEIGHTS. 


319 


trunk  of  a  tree  well  open  to  view  from  the  river  and 
then  stood  with  his  eyes  fixed  on  the  approaching  ships. 
Just  as  the  Sutherland  came  abreast  of  the  spot  where 
they  were  standing  the  ensign  was  dipped.  James  at 
once  removed  his  handkerchief. 

"  Now,"  he  said,  ''  Middletofi,  you  can  turn  in  and 
take  a  sleep;  at  twelve  o'clock  to-night  there  will  be  a 
boat  below  for  us." 

Two  or  three  hours  after  darkness  had  fallen  James 
and  his  companion  made  their  way  down  the  slope  and 
crawled  out  to  the  water's  edge.  There  was  no  sentry 
within  hearing,  and  they  sat  down  by  the  edge  of  the 
river  until  suddenly  a  light  gleamed  for  an  instant  low 
down  on  the  water  two  or  three  hundred  yards  from  the 
shore. 

They  at  once  stepped  into  the  river,  and  wading  out 
for  some  little  distance  struck  out  toward  where  they  had 
seen  the  light.  A  few  minutes'  swimming  and  they  saw 
something  dark  ahead,  another  few  strokes  took  them 
alongside,  and  they  were  hauled  into  the  boat.  The 
slight  noise  attracted  the  attention  of  a  sentry  some  little 
distance  along  the  shore,  and  his  "Qui  vive?"  came 
sharply  across  the  water,  followed  a  few  seconds  later  by 
the  flash  of  his  gun. 

The  crew  now  bent  to  their  oars,  and  a  quarter,  of  an 
hour  later  the  boat  was  alongside  the  Sutherland,  which, 
with  her  consorts,  was  slowly  drifting  up  the  stream. 
General  Wolfe  and  the  admiral  were  on  deck  and 
anxiously  waiting  the  arrival  of  the  boat.  The  former 
in  his  anxiety  hailed  the  boat  as  it  approached. 

"  Is  Captain  James  Walsham  on  board?  " 
.    "  Yes,  sir,"  James  said. 

"Bravo,  bravo!"  the  general  cried,  delighted. 
"  Bravo! "  he  repeated,  seizing  James  Walsham's  hand 
as  he  stepped  on  deck.  "  I  did  not  expect  to  see  ycu 
again,  Captain  Walsham,  at  least  until  we  took  Quebec. 
Now,  come  to  my  cabin  at  once  and  tell  me  all  about  it. 
But  perhaps  you  are  hungry?  " 

"  I  am  rather  hungry,  general,"  James  said  quietly; 


320 


With  Wolfe  in  cianadA. 


*'  we  have  had  nothing  to  eat  but  a  crust  of  bread  for 
three  days." 

"  We?  who  are  we?  "  the  general  asked  quickly. 

"  Mr.  Middleton  and  myself,  sir.  He  escaped  after  I 
had  left,  and  joined  me." 

*'  The  galley  fires  are  out,"  the  admiral  said,  "  but  you 
shall  have  some  cold  meat  in  my  cabin  instantly." 

James  was  at  once  led  to  the  cabin,  where  in  two  or 
three  minutes  food  and  a  bottle  of  wine  were  placed 
before  him.  The  general  would  not  allow  him  to  speak 
a  word  till  his  hunger  was  satisfied.  Then  when  he  saw 
him  lay  down  his  knife  and  fork  he  said: 

"  Now,  Captain  Walsham,  in  the  first  place,  have  you 
succeeded — have  you  found  a  practicable  path  down  to 
the  river?  " 

"  I  have  found  a  path,  sir.  It  is  cut  in  one  place  and 
blocked  with  felled  trees,  but  the  obstacles  can  be  passed. 
There  are  some  Canadians  in  tents  near  the  top  of  the 
path,  but  they  seem  to  keep  a  very  careless  watch,  and 
no  sentry  is  placed  at  the  bottom  or  on  the  edge  of  the 
river  anywhere  near." 

"  Admirable,  admirable!  "  Wolfe  exclaimed.  "  At  last 
there  is  a  chance  of  our  outreaching  Montcalm.  And 
you  were  not  seen  examining  the  path?  nothing  occurred 
to  excite  their  suspicion  and  lead  them  to  keep  a  better 
lookout  in  future?  " 

"  No,  sir,"  James  replied,  "  they  have  had  no  suspicion 
of  my  presence  anywhere  near.  The  spot  where  I  was 
taken  off  was  two  miles  higher.  I  moved  away  in  order 
that  if  we  were  seen  swimming  off  to  the  boat  no  sus- 
picion should  occur  that  we  had  been  reconnoitring  the 
pathway." 

"  That  is  right,"  the  general  said.  "  Now  tell  me  the 
whole  story  of  what  you  have  been  doing,  in  your  own 
way." 

James  related  his  adventures  up  to  the  time  when  he 
was  joined  by  the  midshipmaiv 

"  But  what  made  Mr.  Middleton  escape?  "  the  admiral 
asked.    "  I  thought  that  his  instructions  were  precise 


tilE  PAfVL  DOWi^  tHE  HEIGHT^. 


^it 


that  he  was  to  permit  himself  to  be  taken  prisoner,  and 
was  to  remain  quietly  in  Quebec  until  we  could  either 
exchange  him  or  take  the  place." 

"  That  was  how  he  understood  his  instructions,  sir," 
James  said ;  "  but  I  would  rather  that  you  should  ques- 
tion him  yourself  as  to  his  reasons  for  escaping.  I  may 
say  they  appear  to  me  to  be  perfectly  valid,  as  an  occur- 
rence took  place  upon  which  it  was  impossible  for  Cap- 
tain Peters  to  calculate  when  he  gave  them."  James 
then  finished  the  report  of  his  proceedings,  and  General 
Wolfe  expressed  his  great  satisfaction  at  the  result. 

"  I  will  put  you  in  orders  to-morrow  for  your  brevet- 
majority,"  he  said,  "  and  never  was  the  rank  more  hon- 
orably earned." 

The  admiral  rang  a  hand-bell. 

"  Send  Mr.  Middleton  to  me.    Where  is  he?  " 
,    "  He  is  having  supper  in  Captain  Peters'  cabin." 

"Ask  Captain  Peters  if  he  will  be  good  enough  to 
tome  in  with  him." 

A  minute  later  Captain  Peters  entered,  followed  by 
the  midshipman. 

"  I  suppose,  Peters,  you  have  been  asking  young  Mid- 
dleton the  reason  why  he  did  not  carry  out  his 
instructions?  " 

"  I  have,  admiral,"  Captain  Peters  said  gravely,  "  and 
I  was  only  waiting  until  you  were  disengaged  to  report 
the  circumstance  to  you.  He  had  better  tell  you,  sir, 
his  own  way." 

Captain  Peters  then  took  a  seat  at  the  table,  while  the 
midshipman  related  his  story  in  nearly  the  same  words 
in  which  he  had  told  it  to  James.  When  he  told  of  the 
account  the  Canadian  pilot  had  given  of  his  escape  the 
admiral  exclaimed: 

"  But  it  seems  altogether  incredible.  That  someone 
has  unbolted  the  man's  cabin  from  the  outside  seems 
manifest,  and  it  is  clear  that  either  gross  treachery  or 
gross  carelessness  enabled  him  to  get  free.  I  own  that 
although  the  sergeant  of  marines  declares  positively  that 
he  fastened  the  bolts.  I  think  that  he  could  not  have  done 


I 


^^I^^p 


ppww* 


^■•■l^pp 


mi^m 


m^m 


32a 


WITH  WOLFE  IM  CAKADA. 


SO,  for  treachery  seems  almost  out  of  the  question.  That 
an  officer  should  have  done  this  seems  impossible;  and 
yet  what  the  man  says  about  the  cabin  and  beiiig  let  out 
by  a  rope  would  seem  to  show  that  it  must  have  been  an 
officer." 

"  I  am  sorry  to  say,  sir,"  Middleton  said,  "  that  the 
man  gave  proofs  of  the  truth  of  what  he  was  saying. 
The  officer,  he  said,  gave  him  a  paper  which  I  heard  and 
saw  the  general  reading  aloud.  It  was  a  warning  that 
Captain  Walsham  had  purposely  allowed  himself  to  be 
captured,  and  that  he  was,  in  fact,  a  spy.  The^  French 
officer  in  his  haste  laid  down  the  paper  on  the  table 
whv  1  he  rushed  out,  and  I  had  just  time  to  creep  under 
the  canvas,  seize  it,  and  make  off  with  it.  Here  it  is,  sir; 
I  have  shown  it  to  Captain  Peters." 

The  admiral  took  the  paper  and  read  it,  and  handed 
it  without  a  word  to  General  Wolfe. 

"  That  is  proof  conclusive,"  he  said.  "  Peters,  do  you 
know  the  handwriting?  " 

"  Yes,"  Captain  Peters  said  gravely.  "  I  recognized 
it  at  once,  as  did  Mr.  Middleton.  It  is  the  handwriting 
of  Lieutenant  Horton." 

"  But  what  on  earth  could  be  the  motive  of  this 
unhappy  young  man?  "  the  admiral  asked. 

"  I  imagine,  sir,  from  what  I  saw  on  the  evening  before 
Captain  Walsham  set  out,  and  indeed  from  what  Captain 
Walsham  said  when  I  questioned  him,  that  it  was  a  case 
of  private  enmity  against  Captain  Walsham.*' 

"  Is  this  so,  Captain  Walsham?  "  General  Wolfe  asked. 

"  I  have  no  enmity  against  him,  sir,"  James  said, 
"  though  I  own  that  his  manner  impressed  me  with  the 
idea  that  he  regarded  me  as  an  enemy.  The  fact  is  we 
lived  near  each  other  as  boys,  and  w€  had  a  fight.  I  got 
the  best  of  it.  He  gave  an  account  of  the  affair,  which 
Was  not  exactly  correct,  to  his  uncle,  Mr.  Linthorne,  a 
wealthy  landowner  and  a  magistrate.  The  latter  had 
me  up  at  the  justice  room;  but  I  brought  forward  wit- 
nesses who  gave  their  account  of  the  affair.  Mr.  Lin- 
thorne considered  his  nephew — ^whom  he  had  at  that  time 


^5:^ 


THfi  PATH  DOWN  tHS  ttfcl^tlTS'. 


regarded  as  his  heir — had  not  given  a  correct  account, 
and  was  so  angry  that  he  sent  him  to  sea.  I  would  say, 
sir,"  he  said  earnestly,  "  that  were  it  possible  I  should 
have  wished  this  unhappy  affair  to  be  passed  over." 

"  Impossible !  "  the  admiral  and  general  said  together. 

"  I  fear  it  is  impossible  now,  sir,  James  said  gravely; 
"  but  it  might  have  been  stopped  before." 

"  Captain  Walsham  wanted  me  to  tear  up  the  note," 
the  midshipman  put  in ;  "  but  though  I  was  :.wfully  sorry 
such  a  thing  should  happen  to  an  officer  of  the  Suther- 
land, I  wafi^  obliged  to  refuse  to  do  so,  as  I  thought  it  was 
my  duty  to  hand  the  note  to  you." 

"  Certainly  it  was,  Mr.  Middleton,"  the  admiral  said. 
"  There  can  be  no  question  about  that." 

"  I  wonder  that  you  even  suggested  such  a  thing.  Cap- 
tain Walsham,"  the  general  remarked.  "This  was  not 
a  private  affair.  The  whole  success  of  the  enterprise  was 
jeopardized." 

"It  was,  sir,"  James  said  quietly;  "but  you  must 
rem^jmber  that  at  the  time  I  asked  Mr.  Middleton  to  tear 
up  che  note  it  had  ceased  to  be  jeopardized,  for  I  had  got 
fairly  away.  I  am  under  great  obligations  to  Mr.  Lin- 
thorne,  and  would  do  much  to  save  him  pain.  I  regarded 
this  act  not  as  one  of  treason  against  the  country,  but 
as  one  of  personal  enmity  to  myself,  and  I  am  sure  that 
Lieutenant  Horton  himself  did  not  think  of  the  harm 
that  his  letter  might  do  to  the  cause,  but  was  blinded  by 
his  passion  against  me." 

"  Your  conduct  does  credit  to  your  heart.  Captain 
Walsham,  if  not  to  your  head,"  General  Wolfe  said. 

The  admiral  rang  the  bell.  "  Tell  Lieutenant  Horton 
that  I  wish  to  speak  to  him,  and  order  i  corporal  with 
a  file  of  marines  to  be  at  the  door." 

The  messenger  found  Lieutenant  Horton  pacing  the 
quarterdeck  with  hurried  steps.  On  the  receipt  of  the 
message,  instead  of  going  directly  to  the  admiral's  cabin 
he  ran  down  below,  caught  something  from  a  shelf  by 
his  berth,  placed  it  in  the  breast  of  his  coat,  and  then 
went  to  the  admiral's  cabin.    The  corporal  with  the  twQ 


su 


WitR  WOtPE  IN  CANADA. 


marines  had  already  taken  his  station  there.  The  young 
officer  drew  a  deep  breath  and  entered. 

A  deadly  fear  had  seized  him  from  the  moment  he  saw 
the  signal  of  James  Walsham,  although  it  seemed  impos- 
sible to  him  that  his  treachery  could  have  been  discov- 
ered. The  sudden  summons  at  this  hour  of  the  night 
confirmed  his  fears,  and  it  was  with  a  face  almost  as  pale 
as  death  that  he  entered  the  cabin. 

"  Lieutenant  Horton/^  the  admiral  said,  "  you  are 
accused  of  having  assisted  in  the  escape  of  the  pilot  who 
was  our  prisoner  on  board  this  ship.  You  are  further 
accused  of  releasing  him  with  the  special  purpose  that 
the  plans  which  General  Wolfe  had  laid  to  obtain 
information  might  be  thwarted." 

"  Who  accuses  me?  "  Richard  Horton  asked.  "  Cap- 
tain Walsham  is  my  enemy;  he  has  for  years  intrigued 
against  me  and  sought  to  do  me  harm.  He  was  the 
companion  of  smugglers,  and  was  captured  by  the  Thetis, 
and  had  the  choice  of  being  sent  to  prison  and  tried  for 
his  share  in  the  killing  of  some  of  the  coast-guards,  or 
of  going  before  the  mast.  I  was  a  lieutenant  in  the 
Thetis  at  the  time,  and  I  suppose  because  I  did  not  then 
interfere  on  his  behalf  he  has  now  trumped  up  this 
accusation  against  me,  an  accusation  I  defy  him  to 
prove." 

"  You  are  mistaken.  Lieutenant  Horton,"  the  admiral 
said.  "  Captain  Walsham  is  not  your  accuser;  nay  more, 
he  has  himself  committed  a  grave  dereliction  of  duty  in 
trying  to  screen  you,  and  by  endeavoring  to  destroy  the 
principal  evidence  against  you.  Mr.  Middleton  over- 
heard a  conversation  between  the  Canadian  pilot  and  the 
French  general,  and  the  former  described  how  he  had 
been  liberated  by  an  English  officer,  who  assisted  him  to 
escape  by  a  rope  from  the  port-hole  in  his  cabin." 

"  I  do  not  see  that  that  is  any  evidence  against  me," 
Richard  Horton  said.  "  In  the  first  place,  the  man  may 
have  been  lying;  in  the  second  place,  unless  he  men- 
tioned my  name  why  am  I  suspected  more  than  any 
other  officer?    And  even  if  he  did  mention  my  name,  my^ 


Tttfi  PATll  DOWN  THE  HEIGHT^. 


345 


word  is  surely  as  good  as  that  of  a  Canadian  prisoner? 
It  is  probable  that  the  man  was  released  by  one  of  the 
crew — some  man,  perhaps,  who  owed  me  a  grudge — 
who  told  him  to  say  that  it  was  I  who  freed  him,  in 
hopes  that  some  day  this  outrageous  story  might  get 
about." 

"  Your  suggestions  are  plausible,  Mr.  Horton,"  the 
admiral  said  coldly.  "  Unfortunately  it  is  not  on  the 
word  of  this  Canadian  that  we  have  to  depend.  There, 
sir,"  he  said,  holding  out  the  letter;  "there  is  the  chief 
witness  against  you.  Captain  Peters  instantly  recog- 
nized your  handwriting,  as  Mr.  Middleton  had-  done 
before  him." 

Richard  Horton  stood  gazing  speechlessly  at  the  letter. 
So  confounded  was  he  by  the  unexpected  production  of 
this  fatal  missive  that  he  was  unable  to  utter  a  single 
word  of  explanation  or  excuse,  v 

"  Lay  your  sword  on  the  table,  sir,"  the  admiral  said, 
"  and  retire  to  your  cabin,  where  you  will  remain  under 
close  arrest  till  a  court-martial  can  be  assembled." 

Richard  Horton  unbuckled  his  sword  and  laid  it  on 
the  table,  and  left  the  cabin  without  a  word. 

"  It  would  have  been  better  to  send  a  guard  with  him," 
Captain  Peters  said;  "  he  might  jump  overboard  or  blow 
his  brains  out." 

"  Quite  so,  Peters,"  the  admiral  said;  "the  very  thing 
that  was  in  my  mind  when  I  told  him  to  retire  to  his 
cabin — the  very  best  thing  he  could  do  for  himself  and 
for  the  service.  A  nice  scandal  it  would  be  to  have  to 
try  and  hang  a  naval  officer  for  treachery.  I  am  sure 
you  agree  with  me,  general?" 

"Thoroughly,"  the  general  said;  "let  him  blow  his 
brains  out  or  desert;  but  you  had  best  keep  a  sharp  look- 
out that  he  does  not  desert  at  present.  After  we  have 
once  effected  our  landing,  I  should  say  keep  as  careless 
a  watch  over  him  as  possible ;  but  don't  let  him  go  before. 
It  is  bad  enough  that  the  French  know  that  Captain 
Walsham  went  ashore  for  the  purpose  of  di  covering 
^  landing  place;  but  it  would  be  worse  were  they  to 


11;^ 


3a^ 


WITH  WoLfE  m  CANADA. 


become  aware  that  he  has  rejoined  the  ships,  and  that 
he  was  taken  off  by  a  boat  within  a  couple  of  miles  of 
the  spot  where  we  mean  to  land." 

The  admiral  was  right.  Richard  Horton  had,  when 
summoned  to  the  cabin,  hastily  placed  a  pistol  in  his 
bosom  with  the  intention  of  blowing  out  his  brains 
should  he  find  that  the  discovery  he  dreaded  had  been 
made.  Had  the  marines  posted  outside  the  cabin  been 
ordered  to  accompany  him,  he  would  at  once  have  car- 
ried his  purpose  into  execution;  but,  finding  himself  free, 
he  walked  to  his  cabin,  still  determined  to  blow  out  his 
brains  before  morning;  but  the  impulse  once  past,  he 
could  not  summon  up  resolution  to  carry  his  resolve  into 
effect.  He  would  do  it,  he  said  to  himself,  before  :he 
court-martial  came  on.  That  would  be  time  enough. 
This  was  the  decision  he  arrived  at  when  the  morning^ 
dawned  upon  him  lying  despairing  in  his  cot. 


CHAPTER  XXI. 


THE  CAPTURE  OF  QUEBEC. 

On  the  day  on  which  he  received  James*  report 
Wolfe  issued  his  orders  for  the  attack.  Colonel  Burton 
at  Point  Levi  was  to  bring  up  every  man  who  could  be 
spared  to  assist  in  the  enterprise,  and  that  officer  accord- 
ingly marched  to  the  spot  indicated  for  embarkation  after 
nightfall  with  1200  men. 

As  night  approached,  the  main  fleet,  under  Admiral 
Saunders,  below  Quebec,  ranged  itself  opposite  Beau- 
port,  and  opened  a  tremendous  cannonade,  while  the 
boats  were  lowered  and  filled  with  sailors  and  marines. 
Montcalm,  believing  that  the  movements  of  the  English 
above  the  town  were  only  a  feint,  and  that  th.:ir  main 
body  was  still  below  it,  massed  his  troops  in  front  of 
Beauport  to  repel  the  expected  landing. 

To  Colonel  Howe  of  the  light  infantry  was  given  the 
bonor  of  leading  the  little  party  who  were  to  suddenly 


■▼^ 


THl  CAPTURE  OP  QUEBEC. 


3«7 


attack  Verger's  camp  at  the  head  o!  the  path.  James 
Walsham,  knowing  the  way,  was  to  accompany  him  as 
second  in  command.  Twenty-four  picked  men  volun- 
teered to  follow  them.  Thirty  large  troop-boats  and 
some  boats  belonging  to  the  ships  were  in  readiness,  and 
1700  men  took  their  places  in  them. 

The  tide  was  still  flowing,  and  the  better  to  deceive 
the  French  the  vessels  and  boats  were  allowed  to  drift 
upward  for  a  little  distance  as  if  to  attempt  a  landing 
above  Cap  Rouge.  Wolfe  had  that  day  gained  some 
intelligence  which  v*rould  assist  him  to  deceive  the  enemy, 
for  he  learned  that  a  number  of  boats  laden  with 
provisions  from  Quebec  were  coming  down  with  the 
tide. 

Wolfe  was  on  board  the  Sutherland.  He  was  some- 
what stronger  than  he  had  been  for  some  days,  but  felt 
a  presentiment  that  he  would  die  in  the  approaching 
battle.  About  two  o'clock  the  tide  began  to  ebb,  and 
two  lanterns — the  signal  for  the  troops  to  put  off — ^were 
shown  in  the  rigging  of  the  Sutherland.  Fortune  fav- 
ored the  English.  Bougainville  had  watched  the  vessels 
until  he  saw  them  begin  to  drift  down  again  with  the 
stream,  and  thinking  that  they  would  return  again  with 
the  flood,  as  they  had  done  for  the  last  seven  days,  allowed 
his  weary  troops  to  retire  to  their  camp.  The  battalion 
of  Guienne,  instead  of  encamping  near  the  heights,  had 
remained  on  the  St.  Charles;  and  Vergor,  an  incapable 
and  cowardly  officer,  had  gone  quietly  to  bed,  and  had 
allowed  a  number  of  the  Canadians  under  him  to  go  away 
to  their  village  to  assist  in  getting  in  the  harvest. 

For  two  hours  the  English  boats  drifted  down  with  the 
stream.  As  they  neared  their  destination  they  were  sud- 
denly challenged  by  a  French  sentry.  An  officer  who 
spoke  the  language  replied,  "  France." 

"  A  quel  regiment?  " 

"  De  la  reine,"  the  officer  replied,  knowing  that  a  part 
of  that  regiment  was  with  Bougainville.  The  sentry, 
believing  that  they  were  the  expected  provision  boats, 
allowed  them  to  pass  on. 


f,l!fJ!li,'fci,qffit'ff  'l,f,»,-ffi'IUHPHipffWfT9WW 


$2$ 


WITH  WOLFE  IN  CANADA. 


A  few  hundred  yards  further  another  sentry  chal- 
lenged them.  The  same  officer  replied  in  French,  "  Pro- 
vision boats.  Don't  make  a  noise ;  the  English  will  hear 
us."  A  Tew  minutes  later  the  boats  rowed  up  to  the 
strand  at  the  foot  of  the  heights.  Vergor  had  placed  no 
sentry  on  the  shore,  and  the  troops  landed  unchallenged. 
Guided  by  James  Walsham,  Colonel  Howe,  with  his 
twenty-four  volunteers,  led  the  way.  As  silently  as  they 
could  they  moved  up  the  pathway  until  they  gained  the 
top  and  saw  before  them  the  outline  of  the  tents.  They 
went  at  them  with  a  rush.  Vergor  leaped  from  his  bed 
and  tried  to  run  off,  but  was  shot  in  the  heel  and  cap- 
tured. His  men,  taken  by  surprise,  made  little  resist- 
ance.   One  or  two  were  caught,  but  the  rest  fled. 

The  main  body  of  the  troops  were  waiting  for  the 
most  part  in  the  boats  by  the  edge  of  the  bank.  Not 
a  word  was  spoken  as  the  men  listened  almost  breath- 
lessly for  a  sound  which  would  tell  them  whether  the 
enterprise  had  succeeded.  Suddenly  the  stillness  was 
broken  by  the  musketry  on  the  top  of  the  heights,  fol- 
lowed by  a  loud  British  cheer.  Then  all  leaped  from 
the  boats,  and  each  man,  with  his  musket  slung  at  his 
back,  scaled  the  rocks  as  best  he  might.  The  narrow 
path  had  been  made  impassable  by  trenches  and  abattis, 
but  the  obstructions  were  soon  cleared  away  and  the 
stream  of  soldiers  poured  steadily  up. 

As  soon  as  a  sufficiefit  number  had  gained  the  plateau 
strong  parties  were  sent  off  to  seize  the  batteries  at 
Samos  and  Sillery,  which  had  just  opened  fire  upon  the 
boats  and  ships.  This  was  easily  done,  and  the  English 
footing  on  the  plateau  was  assured.  As  fast  as  the  boats 
were  emptied  of  the  men  they  rowed  back  to  the  ships 
to  fetch  more,  and  the  whole  force  was  soon  on  shore. 
The  day  began  to  break  a  few  minutes  after  the  advanced 
troops  had  gained  the  heights,  and  before  it  was  fairly 
daylight  all  the  first  party  were  drawn  up  in  line  ready 
to  resist  attack;  but  no  enemy  was  in  sight.  A  body  of 
Canadians  who  sallied  from  the  town  on  hearing  the  fir- 
ing, and  moved  along  the  strand  toward  the  landing 


mmm 


TfiE  CAPTURE  OF  QUEBEC, 


3«^' 


place,  had  been  quickly  driven  back,  and  for  the  present 
no  other  sign  of  the  enemy  was  to  be  seen. 

Wolfe  reconnoitered  the  ground,  and  found  a  suitable 
place  for  a  battle  at  a  spot  known  as  the  Plains  of 
Abraham,  from  a  pilot  of  that  name  who  had  owned  a 
piece  of  land  there  in  the  early  days  of  the  colony.  It 
was  a  tract  of  grass,  with  some  cornfields  here  and  there, 
and  studded  by  clumps  of  bushes.  On  the  south  it 
was  bounded  by  the  steep  fall  down  to  the  St.  Lawrence; 
on  the  north  it  sloped  gradually  down  to  the  St.  Charles. 

Wolfe  led  his  troops  to  this  spot  and  formed  them  in 
line  across  the  plateau  and  facing  the  city.  The  right 
wing  rested  on  the  edge  of  the  height  along  the  St. 
Lawrence,  but  the  left  did  not  extend  far  enough  to  reach 
the  slopes  down  to  the  St.  Charles.  To  prevent  being 
outflanked  on  this  wing  Brigadier  Townshend  was  sta- 
tioned here  with  two  battalions  drawn  up  at  right  angles 
to  the  rest  and  facing  the  St.  Charles.  Webb's  regiment 
formed  the  reserve,  the  3d  battalion  of  Royal  Americans 
were  left  to  guard  the  landing,  and  Howe's  light  infantry 
occupied  a  wood  far  in  the  rear  of  the  force  to  check 
Bougainville  should  he  approach  from  that  direction. 
Wolfe  with  his  three  brigadiers  commanded  the  main 
body,  which,  when  all  the  troops  had  arrived,  numbered 
less  than  3500  men. 

Quebec  was  less  than  a  mile  distant  from  the  spot 
where  the  troops  were  posted  in  order  of  battle,  but  an 
intervening  ridge  hid  it  from  the  sight  of  the  troops.  At 
six  o'clock  the  white  uniforms  of  the  battalion  of  Gui- 
enne,  which  had  marched  up  in  hot  haste  from  their 
camp  on  the  St.  Charles,  made  their  appearance  on  the 
ridge  and  halted  there  awaiting  reinforcements.  Shortly 
afterward  there  was  an  outbreak  of  hot  firing  in  the  rear, 
where  the  lif?ht  troops  under  Colonel  Howe  repulsed  a 
detachment  of  Bougainville's  command  which  came  up 
and  attacked  them. 

Montcalm  had  been  on  the  alert  all  night.  The  guns 
of  Saunders*  fleet  thundered  unceasingly  opposite  Beau- 
port,  and  its  boats  hovered  near  the  shore  threatening 


mm 


""PRifiiniiiiiii^^ 


330 


WITH  WOLFE  IM  CANADA. 


a  landing.  All  night  the  French  troops  remained  in  theif 
intrenchments.  Accompanied  by  the  Chevalier  Johns- 
ton, he  remained  all  night  in  anxious  expectation.  He 
felt  that  the  critical  moment  had  come,  but  could  not 
tell  from  which  direction  the  blow  was  to  arrive.  He 
had  sent  an  officer  to  Vaudreuil,  whose  quarters  were 
near  Quebec,  begging  him  to  send  word  instantly  should 
anything  occur  above  the  town.  Just  at  daybreak  he 
heard  the  sound  of  cannon  from  that  direction.  This 
was  the  battery  at  Samos  opening  fire  upon  the  English 
ships.  But  no  word  came  from  Vaudreuil,  and  about 
six  o'clock  Montcalm  mounted  and,  accompanied  by 
Johnston,  rode  toward  the  town.  As  he  approached  the 
bridge  across  the  St.  Charles  the  country  behind  the 
town  opened  to  his  view,  and  he  presently  saw  the  red 
line  of  British  troops  drawn  up  on  the  heights  above  the 
river  two  miles  away.  Instantly  he  sent  Johnston  off 
at  full  gallop  to  bring  up  the  troops  from  the  center  and 
left.  Vaudreuil  had  already  ordered  up  those  on  the 
right.  Montcalm  rode  up  to  Vaudreuil's  quarters,  and, 
after  a  few  words  with  the  governor,  galloped  over  the 
bridge  of  the  St.  Charles  toward  the  seat  of  danger. 
It  must  have  been  a  bitter  moment  for  him.  The  fruits 
of  his  long  care  and  watching  were  in  a  moment  snatched 
away,  and  just  when  he  had  hoped  that  the  enemy,  foiled 
and  exhausted,  were  about  to  return  to  England,  he 
found  that  they  had  surmounted  the  obstacles  he  had 
deemed  impregnable,  and  were  calmly  awaiting  him  on 
a  fair  field  of  battle.  One  who  saw  him  said  that  he 
rode  toward  the  field  with  a  fixed  look,  uttering  not  a 
word. 

The  army  followed  in  hot  haste,  crossed  the  St. 
Charles,  passed  through  Quebec,  and  hurried  on  to  the 
ridge  where  the  battalion  of  Guienne  had  taken  up  its 
position.  Nothing  could  have  been  stronger  than  the 
contrast  which  the  two  armies  afforded.  On  the  one 
side  was  the  red  English  line,  quiet  and  silent,  save  that 
the  war-pipes  of  the  Highlanders  blew  loud  and  shrilly; 
on  the  other  were  the  white-coated  battalions  of  the  regu- 


Pipplpipiff 


H 


I 

(1, 


THE  CAPTURE  OF  QUEBEC. 


I  in  theif 
r  Johns- 
on. He 
3uld  not 
ive.  He 
ers  were 
y  should 
jreak  he 
n.    This 

English 
id  about 
inied  by 
Lched  the 
hind  the 
J  the  red 
ibove  the 
tiston  off 
jnter  and 
e  on  the 
ters,  and, 
I  over  the 
[  danger, 
"he  fruits 

snatched 
ny,  foiled 
rland,  he 
he  had 
I  him  on 
that  he 
ng  not  a 

the   St. 

on  to  the 

en  up  its 

than  the 

the  one 

save  that 

id  shrilly; 

^e  regu- 


\ 


33« 


!ar  army  of  France,  the  blue-clad  Canadians,  the  bands 
of  Indians  in  their  war-paint  and  feathers,  all  hurried  and 
excited  by  their  rapid  march  and  by  the  danger  which 
had  so  unexpectedly  burst  upon  them.  Now  the  evils 
of  a  divided  command  were  apparent.  Vaudreuil  coun- 
termanded Montcalm's  orders  for  the  advance  of  the  left 
of  the  army,  as  he  feared  that  the  English  might  make 
a  descent  upon  Beauport. 

Nor  was  the  garrison  of  Quebec  available,  for  Rame- 
say,  its  commander,  was  under  the  orders  of  Vaudreuil, 
and  when  Montcalm  sent  to  him  for  twenty-five  field- 
guns  from  one  of  its  batteries  he  only  sent  three,  saying 
that  he  wanted  the  rest  for  his  own  defense.  Montcalm 
held  a  council  of  war  with  all  his  officers  and  determined 
to  attack  at  once.  For  this  he  has  been  blamed.  That 
he  must  have  fought  was  certain,  for  the  EngUsh  in  the 
position  which  they  occupied  cut  him  off  from  the  bac>e 
of  his  supplies;  but  he  might  have  waited  for  a  few  hours, 
and  in  that  time  he  could  have  sent  messengers  and 
brought  up  the  force  of  Bougainville,  which  could  have 
marched  by  a  circuitous  route,  and  have  joined  him  with- 
out coming  in  contact  with  the  English. 

Upon  the  other  hand,  Montcalm  had  every  reason  to 
believe  that  the  3500  men  he  saw  before  him  formed 
a  portion  only  of  the  English  army,  that  the  rest  were 
still  on  board  the  fleet  opposite  Beauport,  and  that  a 
delay  would  bring  larger  reinforcements  to  Wolfe  than 
he  could  himself  receive.  He  was,  as  we  know,  mis- 
taken, but  his  reasoning  was  sound,  and  he  had  all  along 
believed  the  English  army  to  be  far  more  numerous  than 
it  really  was. 

He  was  doubtless  influenced  by  the  fact  that  his  troops 
were  full  of  ardor,  and  that  any  delay  would  greatly 
dispirit  the  Canadians  and  Indians.  He  therefore  deter- 
mined to  vUttack  at  once.  The  three  field-pieces  sent  by 
Ramesay  opened  fire  upon  the  English  line  with  canis- 
ter, while  1500  Canadians  and  Indians  crept  up  among 
the  bushes  and  knolls  and  through  the  cornfield,  and 
opened  a  heav^  fire,  *Wplf^  threw  put  skirmishers  io 


'1 


S3t 


WITH  WOLPS  IN  CANADA. 


front  of  the  line  to  Jceep  these  assailants  in  check,  and 
ordered  the  rest  of  the  troops  t  j  lie  down  to  avoid  the 
fire.  On  the  British  left  the  attack  was  most  galling. 
Bands  of  the  sharp-shooters  got  among  the  thickets  just 
below  the  edge  of  the  declivity  down  to  the  St.  Charles, 
and  from  these,  and  from  several  houses  scattered  there, 
they  killed  and  wounded  a  considerable  number  of 
Townshend's  men. 

Howe  was  called  up  with  his  light  troops  from  the  rear, 
and  he  and  the  two  flank  battalions  of  Townshend  dashed 
at  the  thickets,  and  after  some  sharp  fighting  partially 
cleared  them,  and  took  and  burned  some  of  the  houses. 

Toward  ten  o'clock  the  French  advanced  to  the  attack. 
Their  center  was  formed  of  regular  troops  only,  with 
regulars  and  Canadian  battalions  on  either  flank.  Two 
field-pieces,  which  with  enormous  labor  the  English  had 
dragged  up  the  path  from  the  landing  place,  at  once 
opened  fire  with  grape  upon  the  French  line. 

The  advance  was  badly  conducted.  The  French  regu- 
lars marched  steadily  on,  but  the  Canadians,  firing  as 
they  advanced,  threw  themselves  on  the  ground  to 
reload,  and  this  broke  the  regularity  of  the  line.  The 
English  advanced  some  little  distance  to  meet  their  foes, 
and  then  halted. 

Not  a  shot  was  fired  until  the  French  were  within  forty 
paces,  and  then  at  the  word  of  command  a  volley  of  mus- 
ketry crashed  out  along  the  whole  length  of  the  line. 
So  regularly  was  the  volley  given  that  the  French  officers 
afterward  said  that  it  sounded  like  a  single  cannon-shot. 
Another  volley  followed,  and  then  the  continuous  roar 
of  independent  firing.  When  the  smoke  cleared  off  a 
little  its  effects  could  be  seen.  The  French  had  halted 
where  they  stood,  and  among  them  the  dead  and 
wounded  were  thickly  strewn. 

All  order  and  regularity  had  been  lost  under  that  terri- 
ble fire,  and  in  three  minutes  the  line  of  advancing 
soldiers  was  broken  up  into  a  disorderly,  shouting  mob. 
Then  Wolfe  gave  the  order  to  charge,  and  the  British 
cheer,  mingled  with  the  wild  yell  of  the  Highlanders, 


THE  CAPTURE  OF  QUEBEC. 


333 


rose  loud  and  fierce.  The  English  regiments  advanced 
with  leveled  bayonets;  the  Highlanders  drew  their 
broadswords  and  rushed  headlong  forward.  The  charge 
was  decisive,  the  French  were  swept  helplessly  before 
it,  and  the  battle  was  it  an  end,  save  that  the  scattered 
parties  of  Canadians  and  Indians  kept  up  for  some  time 
a  fire  from  the  bushes  and  cornfields. 

Their  fire  was  heaviest  on  the  British  right,  where 
Wolfe  himself  led  the  charge  at  the  head  of  the  Louis- 
bourg  Grenadiers.  A  shot  shattered  his  wrist.  He 
wrapped  his  handkerchief  around  it  and  kept  on.  An- 
other shot  struck  him,  but  he  still  advanced.  When  a 
third  pierced  his  breast  he  staggered  and  sat  down. 
Two  or  three  officers  and  men  carried  him  to  the  rear, 
and  then  laid  him  down  and  asked  if  they  should  send 
for  a  surgeon. 

"There  is  no  need/*  he  said.  "It  is  all  over  with 
me. 

A  moment  later  one  of  those  standing  by  him  cried 
out: 

"TTiey  run,  see  how  they  runl " 

"Who  run?  "Wolfe  asked. 

"  The  enemy,  sir;  they  g^ve  way  everywhere." 

"Go,  one  of  you,  to  Colonel  Uuiton,"  Wolfe  said; 
"  tell  him  to  march  Webb's  regiment  down  to  the  Charles 
River  to  cut  ofif  their  retreat  from  the  bridge";  then 
turning  on  his  side  he  said : 

"  Now,  God  be  praised,  I  will  die  in  peace! "  and  a  few 
minutes  later  he  expired. 

Montcalm,  still  on  horseback,  was  borne  by  the  tide  of 
fugitives  toward  the  town.  As  he  neared  the  gate  a  shot 
passed  through  his  body.  It  needed  some  hard  work 
before  the  Canadians,  who  fought  bravely,  could  be 
cleared  out  from  the  thickets.  The  French  troops  did 
not  rally  from  their  disorder  till  they  had  crossed  the 
St.  Charles ;  the  Canadians  retired  in  better  order. 

Decisive  as  the  victory  was,  the  English,  for  the 
moment,  were  in  no  condition  to  follow  it  up.  While 
pa  the  French  side  Montcalm  was  dying  and  bis  second 


334 


WITH  WOLFE  IN  CANADA. 


in  command  was  mortally  wounded;  on  the  English, 
Wolfe  was  dead  and  Monckton,  second  in  rank,  badly 
wounded,  and  the  command  had  fallen  upon  Townshend 
at  the  moment  when  the  enemy  were  in  full  flight. 
Knowing  that  the  French  could  cut  the  bridge  of  boats 
across  the  St.  Charles,  and  so  stop  his  pursuit,  and  that 
Bougainville  was  close  at  hand,  he  halted  his  troops  and 
set  them  to  work  to  intrench  themselves  on  the  field  of 
battle.  Their  loss  had  ,been  664  of  all  ranks,  killed  and 
wounded;  while  the  French  loss  was  estimated  at  about 
double  that  number. 

In  point  of  numbers  engaged  and  in  the  total  loss  on 
both  sides  the  fight  on  the  Plains  of  Abraham  does  not 
deserve  to  rank  as  a  great  battle,  but  its  results  were  of 
the  most  extreme  importance,  for  the  victory  transferred 
Canada  from  France  to  England. 

Vaudreuil,  after  joining  his  force  with  that  of  Bougain- 
ville, would  have  still  vastly  outnumbered  the  English, 
and  could,  by  taking  up  a  fresh  position  in  their  rear, 
have  rendered  himself  impregnable,  until  the  winter 
forced  the  English  to  retire,  while  the  latter  had  no  means 
of  investing  or  besieging  Quebec.  But  his  weakness 
was  now  as  great  as  his  presumption  had  been  before, 
and  on  the  evening  of  the  battle  he  abandoned  the  lines 
of  Beauport,  and,  leaving  all  his  tents  and  stores  behind 
him,  retreated  hastily,  or  rather,  it  may  be  said,  fled,  for 
as  the  Chevalier  Johnston  said  of  it: 

"  It  was  not  a  retreat,  but  an  abominable  flight,  with 
such  disorder  and  confusion  that,  had  the  English  known 
it,  300  men  sent  after  us  would  have  been  sufficient  to 
have  cut  all  our  army  to  pieces.  The  soldiers  were  all 
mixed,  scattered,  dispersed,  and  running  as  hard  as  they 
could,  as  if  the  English  army  were  at  their  heels." 

The  flight  was  continued  until  they  reached  the  im- 
pregnable position  of  Jacques-Cartier  on  the  brink  of 
the  St.  Lawrence,  thirty  miles  from  the  scene  of  action. 

Montcalm  died  in  Quebec  the  next  morning.  Levis 
soon  arrived  at  Jacques-Cartier  from  Montreal,  and  took 
the  command^  and  at  once  attempted  to  restore  order, 


tH£  CAPrtJtLt  OP  OUEfiiSC. 


335 


and  persuaded  Vaudreuil  to  march  back  to  join  Bougain- 
ville, who  had  remained  firmly  with  his  command  at 
Cap  Rouge  while  the  horde  of  fugitives  swept  by  him. 
Vaudreuil,, before  leaving,  had  given  orders  to  Ramesay 
to  surrender  if  Quebec  was  threatened  by  assault,  and 
Levis  on  his  march  to  its  relief  was  met  by  the  news 
that  on  the  morning  of  the  i8th  Ramesay  had  sur- 
rendered. 

The  garrison  was  utterly  dispirited  and  unwilling  to 
fight,  the  officers  were  even  more  anxious  to  surrender 
than  the  men,  and  on  the  fleet  approaching  the  walls 
Ramesay  obeyed  VaudreuiFs  orders  and  surrendered. 
Townshend  granted  favorable  conditions,  for  he  knew 
that  Levis  was  a^jproaching  and  that  his  position  was 
dangerous  in  the  extreme;  he  therefore  agreed  that  the 
troops  and  sailors  of  the  garrison  should  march  out  from 
the  place  with  Ihe  honors  of  war,  and  were  to  be  carried 
to  France,  and  that  the  inhabitants  should  have  pro- 
tection in  person  and  property  and  free  exercise  of 
religion. 

The  day  after  the  capture  of  Quebec  James  Walsham 
returned  on  board  ship.  The  thought  of  Richard  Hor- 
ton  awaiting  the  court-martial,  which  would  assuredly 
award  him  the  sentence  of  death  for  his  treachery,  was 
constantly  in  his  mind.  He  remembered  the  conversa- 
tion between  Captain  Peters  and  the  admiral,  and  General 
Wolfe's  words :  "  I  should  say,  keep  as  careless  a  watch, 
over  him  as  possible,"  and  he  determined  if  possible  to 
aid  him  in  making  his  escape,  confident  that  in  the 
general  exultation  at  the  success  of  the  enterprise  no 
one  would  trouble  greatly  about  the  matter,  and  that 
the  admiral  would  be  only  too  pleased  that  an  inquiry 
should  be  avoided  which  could  but  end  in  the  disgrace 
and  execution  of  a  naval  officer.  James  was  relieved 
when  on  his  arrival  he  found  that  Richard  Horton  was 
still  in  confinement,  for  he  feared  that  he  might  have 
carried  out  the  other  alternative  spoken  of  by  the 
admiral,  and  might  have  committed  suicide. 

"  Captain  Peters,"  he  said,  going  up  to  that  officer,  "  I 


33^ 


WlT»  WOLffi  m  CANADA. 


should  be  obliged  if  you  would  give  me  an  order  to  see 
Lieutenant  Horton." 

"  Can't  do  it,  my  lad ;  the  admiral's  orders  are  precise, 
nobody  is  to  be  admitted  to  see  him  without  an  order 
signed  by  himself." 

James  accordingly  sought  the  admiral's  cabin. 

"  What  do  you  want  to  see  him  for,  eh?  "  the  admiral 
asked. 

James  hesitated.  He  would  not  tell  an  untruth  in  ihe 
matter,  and  yet  he  could  think  of  no  excuse  which  could 
answer  without  doing  so. 

"  I  want  to  see  him,  sir,  to  have  some  conversation 
with  him." 

"  Ah  I  "  the  admiral  said,  looking  at  him  keenly,  "  con* 
versation,  eh!  You  are  not  going  to  take  him  a  pistol, 
or  poison,  or  anything  of  that  sort,  to  help  him  to  put 
an  end  to  his  wretched  existence?  " 

"  No,  indeed,  sir,"  James  said  warmly. 

"  Humph !  You  are  not  thinking,  I  hope,"  he  said 
with  a  twinkle  of  the  eye,  "  of  helping  him  to  escape?  " 

James  was  silent. 

"  Well,  well,"  the  admiral  said  hastily,  "  that's  not  a 
fair  question  to  ask.  However,  I  will  tell  you  in  con- 
fidence that  if  he  should  escape,  which  is  the  most 
unlikely  thing  in  the  world,  you  know,  no  one  would 
be  particularly  sorry,  and  there  would  be  no  great  fuss 
made  about  it.  Everyone  in  the  navy  here  would  feel 
it  cast  a  slur  upon  the  service  if,  at  a  time  like  this,  a  naval 
officer  were  tried  and  shot  for  treachery.  However,  if  it 
must  be  it  must;  here  is  an  order  for  you  to  see  him.  If 
it  was  anyone  else  I  might  have  my  doubts  about  grant- 
ing it,  but  as  you  are  the  man  against  whom  he  played 
this  scurvy  trick,  I  feel  safe  in  doing  so.  There  you  are, 
my  lad;  give  me  your  hand,  you  are  a  fine  fellow.  Major 
Wi*lsham,  a  very  fine  fellow." 

Immediately  upon  entering  Quebec  James  had  pur- 
chased a  large  turn-screw,  some  ten  yards  of  fine  but 
strong  rope,  and  three  or  four  bladders.  When  he  pro- 
cured the  order  he  went  to  his  cabini  took  off  his  coatt 


THE  CAI>TURE  Of  QUEIBISC. 


33^ 


i 


iround  the  rope  around  his  body,  and  then  putting  on  his 
coat,  placed  the  flattened  bladders  under  it  and  buttoned 
it  up,  slipping  the  turn-screw  up  his  sleeve,  and  then  pro- 
ceeded to  the  prisoner's  cabin.  The  sentry  at  once 
admitted  him  on  producing  the  admiral's  order. 

Richard  Horton  was  lying  down  on  his  berth,  and 
started  with  surprise  as  his  visitor  entered. 

"  I  am  glad  you  have  come  to  see  me,  James  Wal- 
sham,  for  I  have  been  wishing  to  speak  to  you,  and  I 
thought  you  would  come.  I  have  been  thinking  much 
for  the  last  two  days.  I  know  that  it  is  all  up  with  me; 
the  proofs  are  too  strong,  and  I  will  not  face  a  court- 
martial,  for  I  have  the  means — I  know  I  may  tell  you 
safely — of  avoiding  it.  The  hour  that  brings  me  news 
that  the  court  is  ordered  to  assemble  I  cease  to  live. 
When  a  man  is  at  that  point  he  sees  things  more  clearly, 
perhaps,  than  he  did  before.  I  know  that  I  have 
wronged  you,  and  when  the  admiral  said  that  you  had 
done  all  in  your  power  to  shield  me,  I  felt  more  humili- 
ated than  I  did  when  that  fatal  letter  was  produced.  I 
know  what  you  have  come  for—  to  tell  me  that  you  bear 
me  no  malice.  You  are  a^fine  fellow,  Walsham,  and 
deserve  all  your  good  fortune,  just  as  I  deserve  what  has 
befallen  me.  I  think  if  it  had  not  been  for  the  squire 
taking  me  up  I  should  never  have  come  to  this,  but 
might  have  grown  up  a  decent  fellow.  But  my  head 
was  turned;  I  thought  I  was  going  to  be  a  great  man, 
and  this  is  what  has  come  of  it." 

"  I  have  come  partly,  as  you  suppose,  to  tell  you  that  I 
bear  you  no  malice,  Richard  Horton.  I  too  have  thought 
matters  over,  and  understand  your  feeling  against  me. 
That  first  unfortunate  quarrel  and  its  unfortunate  result 
set  you  against  me,  and  perha>>s  I  never  did  as  much  as 
I  might  to  turn  yixxr  feelings  the  other  way.  However, 
we  will  not  talk  more  of  that,  all  that  is  past  and  over. 
I  come  to  you  now  as  the  nephew  of  the  man  who  has 
done  so  much  for  me.  I  have  brought  with  me  the 
means  of  aiding  your  escape." 

"  Of  aiding  my  escape,  Walsham I    You  must  be  madi 


338 


WITH  WOLFE  IM  CANADA. 


<( 


it 


I  am  too  sectTf'^ly  fastened  here;  and  even  were  it  not'SO, 
I  would  not  accept  a  kindness  which  would  cost  you 
your  commission  were  it  known." 

"  As  to  the  second  reason  you  may  make  your  mind 
easy.  From  words  which  dropped  from  the  admiral  I 
am  sure  that  everyone  will  be  so  glad  at  your  escape  that 
no  very  strict  inquiry  will  be  made.  In  the  next  place, 
your  fastenings  are  not  so  very  secure.  The  port-hole 
is  screwed  down  as  usual." 

"Yes,"  Horton  said;  "out  in  addition  there  are  a 
dozen  strong  screws  placed  round  it." 

"  Here  is  a  long  turn-screw  which  will  take  them  out 
as  quickly  as  the  carpenter  put  them  in,"  James  said, 
producing  the  tool;  "  and  here,"  and  he  opened  his  coat, 

is  a  rope  for  lowering  yourself  down  into  the  water." 

"  You  are  very  good,  James,"  Horton  said  quietly; 

but  it  is  no  use,  I  can't  swim." 

"  I  know  you  could  not  as  a  boy,"  James  replied,  "  and 
I  though!  it  likely  enough  that  you  had  not  learned 
since,  but  I  think  with  these  you  may  make  a  shift  to 
get  ashore,"  and  he  produced  four  bladders  and  some 
strong  lashing;  "  if  you  blow  these  out,  fasten  the  necks 
tightly,  and  then  lash  them  round  you,  you  can't  sink. 
The  drift  of  the  tide  will  take  you  not  very  far  from  the 
point  below,  ar*.d  if  you  do  your  best  to  strike  out  toward 
the  shore  I  have  no  doubt  you  will  be  able  to  make  it. 
You  must  lower  yourself  into  the  water  very  quietly, 
and  allow  yourself  to  float  down  till  you  are  well  astern 
of  the  vessel." 

Richard  Horton  stood  for  a  minute  or  two  with  his 
hand  over  his  eyes;  then  he  said  in  a  broken  voice: 

"  God  bless  you,  Walsham,  I  will  try  it;  if  I  am  shot 
'tis  better  than  dying  by  my  own  hand ;  if  I  escape  I  will 
do  my  best  to  retrieve  my  life.  I  shall  never  return  to 
England  again,  but  under  a  new  name  may  start  afresh 
in  the  colonies.    God  bless  you,  and  make  you  happy." 

The  young  men  wrung  each  other's  hand  with  a  silent 
clasp,  and  James  returned  to  his  own  cabin. 
,    TTie  next  ir.orning  the  officer  of  marines  reported  tq 


THE  CAPtURE  or  QUEBIC. 


m 


Captain  Peters  that  the  prisoner  was  missing.  The 
port-hole  was  found  open,  and  a  rope  hanging  to  the 
water's  edge.  The  captain  at  once  took  the  report  to 
the  admiral. 

"  A  bad  job,"  the  admiral  said  with  a  twinkle  of  the 
eye,  "a  very  bad  job!     How  could  it  have  happened'.  " 

"  The  sentries  report,  sir,  that  they  heard  no  noise  dur- 
ing the  night,  and  that  the  only  person  who  visited  the 
cabin,  with  the  exception  of  the  sergeant  with  the 
prisoner's  food,  was  Major  Walsham  with  your  own 
order." 

"  Yes,  now  I  think  of  it,  I  did  give  him  an  order;  but 
of  course  he  can  have  had  nothing  to  do  with  it.  Hor- 
ton  must  have  managed  to  unscrew  the  port-hole  some- 
how, perhaps  with  a  pocket-knife,  and  he  might  have 
had  a  coil  of  rope  somewhere  in  his  cabin.  Great  care- 
lessness, you  know.  However,  at  a  time  like  this  we 
need  not  bother  our  heads  about  it;  he's  gone,  and 
there's  an  end  of  it." 

"  He  could  not  swim,  sir,"  the  captain  said;  "  I  heard 
him  say  so  once." 

"Then  most  likely  he's  drowned,"  the  admiral  re- 
marked briskly;  "that's  the  best  thing  that  could 
happen.  Enter  it  so  in  the  log-book,  *  Lieutenant  Hor- 
ton  fell  out  of  his  cabin  window  while  under  arrest  for 
misconduct;  supposed  to  have  been  drowned.'  That 
settles  the  whole  matter." 

Captain  Peters  smiled  to  himself  as  he  made  the  entry. 
He  was  convinced  by  the  calm  manner  in  which  the  ad- 
miral took  it  that  he  more  than  suspected  that  the  pris- 
oner had  escaped,  and  that  James  Walsham  had  had  a 
hand  in  getting  him  oflf. 

Shortly  after  Quebec  surrendered,  Townshend  re- 
turned to  England  with  the  fleet,  leaving  Murray  in  com- 
mand of  the  army  at  Quebec.  In  the  spring  Levis 
advanced  with  8000  or  9000  men  against  Quebec;  and 
Murray,  with  3000,  advanced  to  meet  him,  and  gave 
battle  nearly  on  the  same  ground  on  which  the  previous 
battle  had  been  fought.    The  fight  was  a  desperate  one; 


,340 


WITH  WOLFE  IK  CANADA. 


but  the  English,  being  outflanked  by  the  superior  num- 
bers of  the  French,  were  driven  back  into  Quebec  with 
1;he  loss  of  a  third  of  their  number. 

Quebec  was  now  besieged  by  the  French  until,  in 
May,  an  English  fleet  arrived  and  destroyed  the  vessels 
which  had  brought  down  the  stores  and  ammunition  of 
Levis  from  Montreal.  The  French  at  once  bfoke  up 
their  camp  and  retreated  hastily;  but  all  hope  was  now 
gone,  the  loss  of  Quebec  had  cut  them  off  from  France. 

Amherst  invaded  the  country  from  the  English  colo- 
nies, and  the  French  were  driven  back  to  Montreal, 
before  which  the  united  English  forces,  17,000  strong, 
took  up  their  position;  <5n  the  8th  of  September,  1760, 
Vaudreuil  signed  the  capitulation  by  which  Canada  and 
all  its  dependencies  passed  to  the  English  crown.  All 
the  French  officers,  civil  and  military,  and  the  French 
troops  and  sailors,  were  to  be  sent  back  to  France  in 
English  ships. 

James  Walsham  was  not  present  at  the  later  opera- 
tions round  Quebec.  He  had  been  struck  in  the  side  by 
a  shot  by  a  lurking  Indian  when  a  column  had  marched 
out  from  Quebec  a  few  days  after  its  capture,  and  for 
three  or  four  weeks  he  lay  between  life  and  death  on 
board  ship.  When  convalescence  set  in  he  found  that 
he  was  already  on  blue  water,  all  the  serious  cases  being 
taken  back  by  the  fleet  when,  soon  after  the  capture  of 
Quebec,  it  sailed  for  England.  The  voyage  was  a  long 
one,  and  by  the  time  the  fleet  sailed  with  their  convoy 
into  Portsmouth  *i  arbor  James  had  recovered  much  of 
his  strength. 

An  hour  after  landing  he  was  in  a  post-chaise  on  his 
way  home.  It  seemed  strange,  indeed,  to  him  as  he 
drove  through  the  little  town  on  his  way  up  to  the  Hall. 
He  had  left  it  in  the  beginning  of  1755  a  raw  young  fel- 
low of  eighteen;  he  returned  in  the  last  month  of  1759 
a  man  of  twenty-three,  with  the  rank  of  major  and  no 
inconsiderable  share  of  credit  and  honor.  He  stopped 
the  vehicle  at  the  lodge  gate,  had  his  baggage  taken  out 
(here,  and  proceeded  on  foot  toward  the  Hall,  for  he  wa9 


THi  Capture  of  ouebec. 


34t 


afraid  that  if  he  drove  straight  up  to  the  door  the  sudden 
delight  of  seeing  him  would  be  too  much  for  his  mother. 

John  Petersham  opened  the  door,  and  recognizing 
him  at  once  was  about  to  exclaim  loudly,  when  James 
made  a  motion  for  him  to  be  silent. 

"  Show  me  quietly  into  the  squire's  study,  John/*  he 
said,  grasping  the  butler's  hand  with  a  hearty  squeeze, 
"  and  don't  say  anything  about  my  being  here  until  he 
has  seen  my  mother.    They  are  all  well,  I  hope?" 

"  All  well,  sir,  and  right  glad  they  will  be  to  see  you; 
for  Mrs.  Walsham  and  all  of  them  have  been  fretting 
sorely  since  the  news  came  th^^t  you  were  badly 
wounded." 

"  I  have  had  a  narrow  shave  of  it,"  James  said;  "  but 
thank  God  I  am  as  well  now  as  ever! " 

As  he  spoke  he  opened  the  door  of  the  study  and 
entered. 

The  squire,  who  was  reading  the  paper,  looked  up, 
and  leaped  to  his  feet  with  a  cry  of  satisfaction. 

"  My  dear  boy,  I  am  glad — thank  God  you  are  back 
again!  What  a  relief  your  coming  will  be  to  us  all!" 
And  he  shook  James  warmly  by  both  hands.  "  I  should 
hardly  have  known  you,  and  yet  you  are  not  so  much 
changed  either.  Dear,  dear,  how  delighted  your  mother 
will  be!    You  have  not  seen  her  yet?  " 

"  No,  sir,"  James  said.  "  I  dismissed  the  post-chaise 
at  the  gate  and  walked  up  quietly.  I  was  afraid  if  I 
drove  suddenly  up  the  shock  might  be  too  much  for 
her." 

"  Quite  right!  "  the  squire  said;  "  we  must  break  it  to 
her  quietly.  Wilks  must  do  it — or  no,  he  shall  tell 
Aggie,  and  she  shall  tell  your  mother." 

He  rang  the  bell,  and  John,  who  had  been  expecting 
a  summons,  instantly  appeared. 

"  Tell  Mr.  Wilks  I  want  to  speak  to  him,  John." 

The  old  soldier  speedily  appeared,  and  his  delight  was 
as  great  as  if  James  had  been  his  son.  He  went  off  to 
break  the  news,  and  in  a  short  time  Mrs.  Walsham  was 
in  the  arms  of  her  son. 


^*3Sii^v2^rir 


u^ 


WITH  WOLF!?  I^  CAKU6A. 


Major  Walsham  went  no  more  to  the  wars,  nor  did  he 
follow  his  original  intention  of  entering  the  medical  pro- 
fession. Indeed  there  was  no  occasion  for  him  to  do 
either.  For  Aggie  insisted  on  his  leaving  the  army;  and 
she  had  a  very  strong  voice  in  the  matter.  James  had 
not  long  been  home  before  he  and  the  young  lady  came 
to  an  understanding.  Before  speaking  to  her  James 
had  consulted  his  old  friend. 

"  You  know  how  I  feel,"  he  said;  "  but  I  don't  know 
whether  it  would  be  right.  You  see,  although  I  am 
major  in  the  service,  I  have  nothing  but  mv  pay.  I  owe 
everything  to  the  squire,  and  he  would  naturally  look 
very  much  higher  for  a  husband  for  his  granddaughter." 

"  Don't  you  be  a  fool,  James  Walsham,"  Mr.  Wilks 
said.  "  I  made  up  my  mind  that  you  should  marry 
Aggie  ever  since  the  day  when  you  got  her  out  of  the 
sea.  The  squire  has  known  for  years  what  I  thought  on 
the  subject.  You  will  meet  with  no  opposition  from 
him,  for  he  is  almost  as  proud  of  you  as  I  am;  besides, 
he  thinks  only  of  Aggie's  happiness,  and  unless  I  am 
greatly  mistaken  that  young  lady  has  fully  made  up  her 
mind  on  the  subject." 

This  was  indeed  the  case,  for  Aggie,  when  James  had 
settled  the  point  with  her,  made  no  hesitation  in  telling 
him  that  she  had  regarded  him  as  her  special  property 
since  she  had  been  a  child. 

"  I  considered  it  all  settled  years  ago,"  she  said  de- 
murely, "  and  I  was  quite  aggrieved,  I  can  tell  you, 
when,  on  your  arrival,  you  just  held  out  your  hand  to  me 
instead  of — well,  instead  of  doing  the  same  to  me  as  to 
your  mother." 

"  You  shall  have  no  reason  for  complaint  that  way  in 
the  future,  Aggie,  I  promise  you;  but  how  could  I  tell? 
The  last  time  I  saw  you  you  were  flirting  as  hard  as  you 
could  with  someone  else." 

"  Well,  sir,  whose  fault  was  that?  You  chose  to  make 
yourself  disagreeable  and  stay  away,  and  what  was  I  to 
do?  I  should  do  the  same  in  the  future,  I  can  tell  you, 
if  you  neglected  me  in  the  same  way." 


THE  CAPTURE  OF  QUEBEC. 


343 


.  if 


**I  shan't  give  you  the  chance,  Aggie,  you  can  rely 
upon  tliat." 

The  squire  was  fully  prepared  for  the  communication 
which  James  had  to  make  to  him,  and,  as  there  were  no 
reasons  for  waiting,  the  ceremony  took  place  very 
shortly  afterward.  The  squire  never  asked  any  ques- 
tions about  his  nephew.  The  official  report  had  come 
home  that  Lieutenant  Horton  had  died  of  drowning 
while  under  arrest,  but  the  squire  forbore  all  inquiry, 
and  to  the  end  of  his  life  remained  in  ignorance  of  the 
disgraceful  circumstances.  Perhaps  in  his  heart  the 
news  was  a  relief  to  him.  He  had  never  been  fond  of 
Richard  as  a  lad,  and  his  confidence  once  shaken  had 
never  been  restored.  He  had  intended  to  carry  out  his 
promise  to  leave  him  twenty  thousand  pounds;  but  he 
was  well  pleased  that  all  that  belonged  to  him  should 
descend  to  his  granddaughter.  Mr.  Wilks  was  the  only 
resident  at  the  Hall  who  ever  learned  from  Jam«s  the 
facts  of  Richard  Horton's  disgrace.  Years  afterward 
a  few  lines  without  signature  or  address  came  to  James 
from  America.  The  writer  said  that  he  was  sure  that  he 
would  be  glad  to  hear  that,  under  a  changed  name,  he 
was  doing  very  well.  "  I  shall  never  return  to  Eng- 
land," he  ended,  "  nor  ever  forget  your  kindness  and 
generosity." 

The  marriage  of  the  young  people  made  but  few 
changes  at  the  Hall.  The  squire  proposed  to  give 
Aggie  at  once  a  sum  which  would  have  purchased  an 
estate  in  the  neighborhood;  but  he  was  delighted  to 
find  that  she  and  James  had  made  up  their  minds  that 
the  pa!  ty  at  the  Hall  should  not  be  broken  up. 

"  What  do  you  want  to  send  us  away  for,  grandpapa?  " 
she  asked.  "  You  three  will  be  happier  for  having  us 
with  you,  and  James  and  I  will  be  happier  for  having 
you  with  us.  What  nonsense  to  talk  about  buying  an- 
other estate!  We  might  get  a  little  house  up  in  Lon- 
don. It  would  make  a  change  for  James  and  me  to 
spend  two  or  three  months  every  year  there,  but  of 
cpurse  this  will  be  our  hgme^" 


I?*,.- 


(#^^ 


WITH  WOLFE  IN  CANADA. 


And  SO  It  was  arranged,  and  so  matters  continued 
until,  in.the  lapse  of  time,  the  seniors  passed  away,  and 
James  Walsham  and  his  wife,  and  it  may  be  said  then- 
children,  became  the  sole  occupants  of  the  Hall,  the 
estate  having  been  largely  increased  by  the  purchase  of 
adjoining  property  by  the  squire  before  his  death. 
James  Walsham  might  have  represented  his  county  in 
Parliament  had  he  chosen,  but  he  was  far  too  happy  in 
his  country  life,  varied  by  a  few  months  passed  every 
year  in  town,  to  care  about  taking  part  in  the  turmoil  of 
politics.  He  did  much  for  Sidmouth,  and  especially  for 
its  fishermen,  and  to  the  end  of  his  life  retained  a  pas- 
sionate love  for  the  sea. 


; 


IBB  XNO. 


X 


\ 


V 


